Samsara
by sesquipedalianism
Summary: He was sprawled on his back, limbs heavy, on what felt like... . Grass, maybe. Damp and warm at the same time. Soft, but unyielding. And definitely, absolutely, not metallic. Not anything machine-made.
1. Awakenings

The world was spinning.

He was sprawled on his back, limbs heavy, on what felt like... . Grass, maybe. Damp and warm at the same time. Soft, but unyielding. And definitely, absolutely, not metallic. Not anything machine-made. Not anything in the machine city, or the Logos... (**_No. _**_He couldn't think about that. He couldn't think about anything. All thought would lead to remembering, which would lead to... **No.**_) ...what that made this place, he didn't pretend to know, but it didn't matter very much. It could wait, that particular revelation. Meanwhile, he could just lie here. The thought - blankness, oblivion, a lack of any responsibility, even to himself - was comforting, and he emptied his mind completely into a sheer, vacant space. A void so hollow, it echoed. _(Yes. That's it. Stay there. It's safe there.) _Nullity was tolerable. All else was not.

Then a familiar voice spoke. "Hello, Neo."

He lay there for a moment. It wasn't possible.

"Oracle?"he said, slowly, trying to fathom what the hell this meant.

"Bingo," she said, lazily amused, if also sympathetic. "How're you doing?"

He suddenly realized that his whole body ached. He doubted the afterlife dealt in aches. His childhood pastor had talked of agonizing torments or exquisite bliss, and he'd already experienced limbo when stuck in that train station. Come to think of it, he'd experienced the bliss and the torments, too, in those final days of war. But this wasn't like any afterlife he'd ever heard of. In fact, it felt a lot more familiar than he wanted it to.

"This is the Matrix," he said.

"Right."

"Which means I'm not dead."

"Right again."

The world slowly came back into focus: both expected forms, encoded and visual, perfectly before him. He supposed that, had things been different, he might have been grateful that he could see in here, blinded as he was in the real world. If he'd been able to see her no other way, he'd have welcomed virtual sight as a gift. But now, what did it matter? He'd never catch his breath as she moved across a room; see her eyes light up - her whole face glow - when she caught sight of him. They'd never exchange a glance when surrounded by other people, a entire conversation held in that one look. He'd never again watch her, lost to all else, when they made love. She was gone. Sight was wasted. Pointless. He'd not miss it, if he ever got out of here.

He was in a park. You could call it a beautiful park, he thought grudgingly, if you were in a frame of mind to care. Lush green grass, stretching out to a distant horizon, surrounded by glittering skyscrapers. Some kind of harbor or river just at the edge of his vision. A dazzling, high-summer sunrise painting the sky. And the Oracle, sitting on a bench, regarding him. Not unkindly - affectionately, even - but, Jesus. Didn't she_ know_? She was meant to know everything, after all. And she'd seemed fond of Trinity. She'd been saddened by his dreams. Sensitive to his distress. And Trinity had told him she'd been kind to her, when dropping the original bombshell. Sympathetic, when Trinity had railed against being cast as some kind of apocalyptic Sleeping Beauty, awaiting her hero's kiss. Yet now the worst had finally happened - now he had nothing left - she seemed indifferent. No, worse... _cheerful_.

"Why aren't I dead?" he said, as he pulled himself up to a sitting position. His jaw set to muscle as he looked at her, then away, back up in disbelief at the orange-streaked sky. It looked like a child's idea of a sunrise, the colours so intense.

The Oracle followed his gaze. "Sati made that for you, you know. As a thank you. She thought it might cheer you up."

He stared at her for a moment, speechless._ I've lost everything, and you offer me a __fucking fake sunrise? _"You've not answered my question," he said eventually, at a loss for anything else to say.

"No, I guess not. Well now. What makes you so shocked to be alive?"

"_Everything that has a beginning has an end._ You told me that yourself."

"So I did," she agreed. "Also told you you should've been dead already, but you weren't ready for it."

"You know why I wasn't ready. Hell, Sati's father knew it in seconds."

"Death doesn't come just because you want it to, Neo. Takes a little more than that."

"But they deleted us both at the source." He exhaled, frustrated, angry. "I felt it. It hurt like hell. So why am I still here?"

"He took over everyone in the system, human or program, you know that. You ever stop to think about how deleting him affected the others? Why'd you be any different? They deleted him, not you. Then they ran the Matrix reboot on you, as per requirements. And now here you are."

He was silent for a moment as he took this in. Then he grimaced, as if something especially bitter sat on his tongue. "So. I'm alive."

"And don't you just sound thrilled about it?" She sighed. "You're being treated in the fields as we speak. You'll be right as rain. They're saving your eyes."

"There's nothing to save. They were burned out. But it doesn't matter."

"They can grow human beings from scratch. They can build hardware and software and insert it seamlessly into the brain of a fetus. They can create ports to all your major organs and arteries and seal them from infection. What in the world makes you think they can't fix something as simple as a human eye? What, never heard of stem cells? C'mon, Neo. You're smarter than that."

He was silent. Then he said dully, "I have to get back to Zion."

"Zion's okay. You can stop worrying about that. You did it, Neo. The war's over."

"I have to tell Morpheus. He has a right to know."

"He knows. They all do. On account," her lip twitched, "of them being alive."

He felt a sudden rush of shame. He'd been so devastated by his own loss, he'd not even stopped to think of the others.

"Were there many casualties?"

"On both sides. A thousand of yours, couple thousand ours. But you prevented the worst of it. We've been in communication, and Morpheus survived. Everyone on that ship did."

"Right," he said. He closed his eyes. "Then I have to get back. Have to tell Morpheus."

"Tell him what?" she said mildly. She was looking at him once again, still with that irritatingly dilute sympathy.

"That I failed."

"Pretty strange definition of failure. You know, most people think you're a hero. Human and machine. Savior of both worlds, Neo. You did good."

"I lost her." He turned, his eyes hostile. "You bet this whole damn mess on her mattering more, didn't you? On my choosing a different door. To save her. And then I took her there, to die."

"How d'you know?" The Oracle was looking at him with that same strained patience. "How d'you know she's dead, Neo?"

_Blood. The smell of it. The sticky warmth of it, seeping through her clothes as he lay next to her, on that metal floor, amidst the glass and the shrapnel and the dust. The cold sweat on her face, so clammy against his fingers, as she gasped out her last words. All of them of love. All of them for him. The metallic, blood-tinged taste of her mouth in that kiss, her tongue moving sweetly against his own - even in death, she did everything properly. No chaste lip-press for Trinity: even her final moments were perfectionist. _

"I felt her die," he said, every syllable painfully articulated.

He hadn't cried for her. Not since that one minute in the Logos, when he'd sobbed over her body before forcing himself up, forcing himself to keep going, forcing himself to vindicate her, to ensure that she hadn't died in vain. He'd never been one to show his emotions. Not to anyone but her. And now, he just wanted to grieve in dignified isolation, at home in Zion. He needed to go home now, to where he could feel her presence. The Matrix would never be that place - she'd hated every second. Their home in Zion had been hers for years before he'd ever been freed; she permeated it. Their tiny apartment held only good memories for him. She'd never been in danger or hurt or afraid there since he'd known her; only ever been in love, by his side, happy. He needed to crawl into their bed, into sheets that still smelled of her; her clothes still in the drawers, her shoes by the door. Surrounded by all he had left, saturated by memory. He might fall apart completely if he didn't.

Then the Oracle spoke.

"Well, technically a lot of people die. Even with human care, hearts can be restarted, life support begun. We can do rather better. And you left the Logos inside a minute, didn't you?"

He stared at her. He couldn't speak. He couldn't think. He couldn't believe it. He could hardly breathe. "They can save her?"

"She's been very sick. Life support on all systems - even her blood's been pumped artificially. She's been in an induced coma, to give her brain a better chance." She paused. "You need to understand. She was down for a good couple of minutes, and machine medicine's mostly been used for creation, not repair. It's been a challenge, so I'm told." Her face relaxed into a smile. "But she is alive. And the brain patterns read normally when they decreased sedation to check."

* * *

She looked as she did when sleeping in the real world; black hair falling loosely across the pillow, face softened, skin ghostly pale. Vulnerable, peaceful. As he'd seen her so many times before. But here, she had a tube down her throat, others up her nose, pads all over her body, wires everywhere. Machines beeped steadily, lights twinkling, graphs showing vertiginous mountain peaks and troughs, mapping out the pulse of her life. Jacked into machines, even now.

So much for freedom.

_Machines need us, and we need them._

He bent and kissed her, then sat down and took her hand.

"Can she hear me?" he asked. The Oracle shook her head.

"She's sedated. Can't hear anything. But they'll be taking her off it tomorrow."

"Really? She'll be conscious?"

"That's the hope. She's done well, healing much faster than expected." She smiled. "Always the high achiever, that one."

"So what's the cover story?" he said, watching the rise and fall of Trinity's chest, trying not to remember that a ventilator was responsible - in both worlds, presumably. "What do people here think happened to her?"

"Car crash. Collision with a DUI. She's the victim, so plenty of sympathy. Means people give her that little bit extra care."

He raised his eyebrows at that. "They're pretty damn determined to save her."

"You have _no_ idea," she said, with evident satisfaction. "It's been a key project, in fact."

"Why? To this extent?"

She shrugged. "There's a desire to make this peace last."

"But I don't understand. This amount of machine effort, just for one human? So many others have died."

"You talk to programs. You treat them with respect. You want peace. Willing to die for it, no less. Machines may think differently to humans, but doesn't mean they don't appreciate what you did. And they do understand reciprocity." She smiled. "And there's also a hope that you'll be an ambassador. A bridge, if you like."

"In what sense?" he said cautiously, wary of some trap. Some deal he'd never be strong enough to refuse.

"When you go back to Zion. To keep communication going, so the peace holds, that's all. Thinking is, saving Trinity might encourage you to be better disposed to the machine world, which might carry some weight with humans, given who you are. But they also just wanted to give you something. A gift. To say thank you." She nodded at Trinity. "She's it."

"You said something to them. About what she means to me. You have to have."

"Oh, I'm not the only one here who knew that."

"No. But it sure as hell wasn't the Architect. So you did, didn't you?"

She inclined her head. "Yes."

"Thank you," he said.

"You're more than welcome. I've a soft spot for her. And you." She smiled. "Told you you'd turned out all right, didn't I?"

"When can I take her home?" A sudden thought struck him. "And how'll we get back?"

The Oracle was shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Neo. She's not going to be well enough for freeing for a good few months yet. And thinking is, even when she's stable enough to be conscious, need distracting with a life here, she'll still need calm. Until she's a damn sight better they want her very steady, no dramas. No bad memories, either. That means she needs to believe in a nice dull past and a nice dull job, just while she recovers. When she's well enough, she'll get the truth back. Then - and not till then - you can take her home."

"Fine. That's fine." He didn't care what it took. Just as long as she was well. Just as long as she was _alive_. "So... are we married, living together, dating, what? What memory will she be given?"

But the Oracle was shaking her head once more. "If she spends too much time with you, she'll remember. She started rejecting the code when she was a toddler, she's not going to take more than a couple months to work out something's not right, and you two have too strong a connection. Always did have. Put you together, and she'll force past the programming in a week."

He froze. "What? No. I can't see her?"

"Oh, nothing that drastic. But you need to just be someone she sees around, at least to begin with. Take things gently. So. You're working at Metacortex." She nodded over at Trinity. "Both of you. They'll adjust their memories there so you'll never have left at all, and she'll be a new starter just as soon as she's well enough to leave here." She grinned, a trifle mischievously. "You've been promoted, by the way. Congratulations. Seems you were a model employee this past year."


	2. Limbo

He'd forgotten how much he hated the place.

Day unreeled after day, all identical, all pointless. It was worse, now he knew the truth. He missed Zion, he missed the Neb, and above all, and desperately, he missed Trinity. He'd never been apart from her more than a few hours before, and as the days stretched into weeks, and all he had were phoned updates from Seraph, he began to lose heart. He knew she was healing; was grateful for it, but he ached for her, just the same. He'd expected the nights to be the worst - the sleeping alone - but in fact he slept heavily and well, his brain seeking an escape from the Matrix code. The days at Metacortex were when he missed her the most. He had too much time on his hands.

It was so basic, the work. His skills had rocketed in the nine months of freedom. He'd _become _the code; a code as complex and dense as the Matrix, so his old duties were quite mind-numbingly boring. It didn't help, either, that they were actually encoding their own prison bars; diligently coding away for the very system that enslaved them, like the oblivious little drones they were.

On the plus side, he could now perform his full day's work in about twenty minutes, and simply by putting in an hour a day he was attracting breathless comment and admiration. The latter didn't concern him, but the moving to a private office and out of the cubes did. He could search for news of real world activity there, try to gauge how far Zion's infrastructure had travelled since the war. To date, it hadn't. Nothing anomalous had been seen in months. Not since the mysterious "solar eclipse" as the machines had explained the Smith implosion. Nobody from Zion, it seemed, had yet reached broadcast depth. He could only suppose that restoring all systems of life support in Zion was their necessary priority.

The interpersonal side of it wasn't easy, either. He'd never noticed it before, the strictly gendered way Metacortex operated. The receptionists, the admins, the PAs, the junior and senior secretarial staff; all were women. The programmers were all male. They snickered about the girls, rated their looks, and dismissed them otherwise in every context. Unattractive or older women were valueless, and none of the professional services any of them provided were seen as having worth, either. Neo hadn't realized how far he'd shifted in the nine months he'd been free. How much he'd taken this misogyny for granted before, and how much he'd respected and trusted in the talent and experience of the women he'd worked with since. Zion women were valued for their skills, their knowledge, their intelligence. Their attractiveness or otherwise was a separate issue, and nor did anybody sneer at women who took lovers casually, any more than they applauded men who did the same. Love, in Zion, was seen as an admirable thing - the very essence of being human - and casual sex a value-neutral one. Nobody was embarrassed to acknowledge reliance on a lover. Nobody mocked Neo for needing Trinity, let alone desiring her. Yet here, he knew, there'd be swaggering talk of pussy-whipped men and lost masculinity. Here, he knew, even a woman as beautiful as she was would be seen as sexless, simply because she didn't place her worth in how she looked. Lipstick wasn't really on her radar - hell, she rarely brushed her hair - she was too focused on saving the goddamn world.

It was a genuine shock now, to hear the stupidity, the crassness, of the relations between the sexes in this place. The programmer talk veered between the crudely sexual and the tediously sporting. ESPN was worshiped as blindly as Pamela Anderson, and he wondered how these men, who spent their entire working lives manipulating code, could be so blind to the fact that she was a program. Not even a particularly skilfully rendered one - the Merovingian would never have deigned to create such an apparently _plastic_ creature.

He never said much to any of them. They bored and annoyed him. Yet much as the Matrix might repel him, it was also his kingdom, and his total confidence within it was compelling. He'd changed, people agreed. No longer was he the self-effacing, almost invisible Tom. Neo moved as he'd learned to in the constructs, his grace, his dynamism, his sheer physical presence impossible to miss, his cool confidence so different to the apathetic, apologetic Tom of old. His office was haunted by the admin girls, and one morning he came in to find a sign on his door that read _Tom's Boudoir: Open for Business_. He didn't need to ask. He knew it was Caleb, a co-worker Neo was frequently tempted to silence with a roundhouse kick to the head.

Caleb had always been a piece of work. His bluster, his swagger, his boasts of drinking and partying and screwing around, his inability to take a fucking hint - all made him exhaustingly annoying company. Avoiding him became ever harder. Caleb was too obtuse to notice Neo's dislike, too keen to become Tom Anderson's new best bud, now he'd turned into a dead cert for senior management and a seemingly irresistible draw for the hottest women in the building. Caleb didn't get it - how the hell had that little squirt become... _this_? - but he sure as hell wasn't about to miss his chance. Tom seemed a more likely closet-case by the day, disinterested as he was in skirt - but a guy who hung out with him was likely to have good pickings on the discards.

The conversations ate at Neo's every last nerve.

"Hey man, since when were you such a pussy-magnet?"

Neo looked at the wall clock. 8.45 am. _Fantastic - what a way to start the day. _"Did you want something, Caleb? I'm kind of busy."

"Tom, I'm just saying. Some of these girls are shit-hot - some are barely fucking _legal._ What're you waiting for? The Second Coming?" He punched Neo's shoulder. "Come on, man - you got a wife hidden away or something?" He winked. "She'll never fucking know!"

Neo could well imagine Trinity's reaction to Caleb's bullshit, should she ever have the misfortune to hear it. There'd be one hell of a lot of blood on those cheap, soiled squares of carpet. The thought made him smile.

"See?" Caleb said, and grinned. "You're a long time dead, my friend. Live a little!"

"Uh huh. Could you shut the door on your way out, Caleb? I've a couple calls I need to make."

Bluepills, the lot of them.

Well. Almost.

Zach Hansen. Damn good programmer. Quiet, watchful, and, it seemed, fully capable of spotting a genuine asshole at fifty paces, though not of doing a damn thing about it. He reminded Neo of himself, once upon a lifetime. Frustrated by his own passivity, yet helpless to escape it. Open to people, though. Not yet given up hope. Probably because he was still young - only 26. Just inside the window, luckily enough.

_If he's a bluepill, I'm a yeti._

He paused by the water cooler, where Zach was staring into space, trying to tune Caleb out. Neo remembered that expression - he'd been chanting _shut-the-fuck-up shut-the-fuck-up just-goddamn-shut-the-everliving-fuck-UP_ in his head, whenever he'd worn it himself. He decided to stage a rescue.

"Zach, you wanna grab some lunch?"

"Yeah, join us man," Caleb enthused, but Neo shook his head.

"No. Zach needs briefing on a new project. Confidential project. Some other time maybe, Caleb. Oh -" over his shoulder, dismissive - "could you tell Sara I'll be back in an hour. Zach? No other plans? You good to go?"

"No plans. And sure thing."

As they waited by the elevator, Zach caught Neo's eye, and grinned. "Thanks," he said.

"You're welcome."

"You ever just fantasize about playing space invaders, with your co-workers' heads as the targets? Or does that sound scarily like I'm gonna go postal?"

Neo suppressed a smile. "No. It sounds - very legitimate. May have to try it myself sometime."

He liked Zach more and more as the weeks passed. The guy was intelligent, thoughtful, and definitely searching. He'd identified the question, just hadn't the first idea where to find the answer. Neo longed to put him out of his misery, but he couldn't. He couldn't risk leveling with someone who would meet Trinity. Two redpills in those cubes - when too much knowledge, too soon, could harm her - he refused to risk that. But he'd already decided; when it was time to go, Zach would be offered the chance. It comforted Neo a little, to know this horrible time would serve some purpose - that Zach would owe his freedom to it. Meantime, Neo was just increasingly grateful for his company. It felt like a little piece of Zion in this wasteland. Zach might still be a coppertop, but he was also a comrade. A free person waiting to happen.

Zach had no clue that Neo risked nothing, in allowing him to know his pre-freedom hacking history. The machines already knew anyway; were now on his side, but in Zach's mind, Neo had trusted him with an extremely illegal past. So Zach trusted Neo in return. In fact he opened up far more than seemed fair, given how little Neo was reciprocating. It troubled Neo, that he wasn't able to be more honest. He'd developed good friendships since being freed, and the misery of separation from Trinity, of knowing she was in pain and confused, was worsened by there being nobody else. Morpheus and he would have worried about her together. As it was, he worried alone.

He'd been a loner almost all his life. Yet now, he was lonely. The temptation to talk to Zach, perhaps more than he should do, was great.

* * *

"So," Neo said. "How're you finding it? The Jamieson project?"

"Boring. To be honest. It's not exactly a challenge, is it?"

"No."

Zach looked up. "Caleb... he's fucking useless." He hesitated. "He said you guys go way back, you know. Implied you watch the game together at weekends, that kind of thing. Always trying to make out you're tight."

"Hardly. We do go way back. Too damn long. But we were never friends. Never will be, either." He bit into his sandwich, then added, "Half the women in that building could program better, if they only gave it a shot. Not that I'd wish him on the admin team. He'd not be competent there either. But they're paid half what he is, and most of them are way smarter. Frustrating, the lost potential."

"I never met a woman who programmed well," Zach said doubtfully. "Don't mean it in a sexist way. But people say it's biological - women do language and interpersonal and men..."

"Bullshit."

Zach laughed. "Well, that too. I was gonna say, spatial and numerical skills."

"No. I mean that gendered stuff is all bullshit. You know Trinity - _the _Trinity - she's a woman?"

Zach's jaw dropped. "No_ way_. IRS Trinity?"

"Uh huh."

"Is a _chick_?"

"Yeah."

"How the hell do you know that?"

Neo shrugged slightly. "I've met her."

Zach eyed him for a moment. Then he shook his head in amazement. "You're not even bullshitting, are you? You really have met him. Her. Jesus. _Them."_

"Yeah."

Zach laughed suddenly. "My God. It's like every day's a revelation lately. You know kung fu..."

"A little. And I couldn't just stand back and watch..."

"...you can hack like it's a career path..."

"...I'm a programmer, it's hardly a stretch..."

"...you've found THE Trinity..."

"...no, she found me..."

"...you know something? It's like you're Clarke Kent by Metacortex day, then at night... kapow!"

"I wouldn't say that. My life's pretty normal."

"That's your normal? Christ, I've been sheltered. Wanna take me to your kingdom?"

"It's a deal," said Neo gravely.

"So what the hell did you say?"

"Say?"

"When you met her."

"Oh." Neo smiled, remembering it. "I said, '_I thought you were a guy._'"

Zach began to laugh. "Seriously?"

"Unfortunately."

"Oh my God. So what did she say?"

"She said, _most guys do_."

"Did she laugh?"

Neo shook his head. "No. Think she'd heard it a few times too many for that."

"Was she smart?" Zach said curiously. "I mean, obviously, but how smart we talking?"

"Off the scale."

"Yeah. I figured she had to be."

"And she's... interesting. Very interesting person."

"Okay, this is gonna sound really bad, but..." Zach started tearing his serviette into small pieces. "Did she look the way you'd expect? From a chick who could do that? Would _want_ to do that?"

"I don't know. How would you expect her to look?" Neo said curtly. Then he saw Zach's embarrassment, and was ashamed. Who was he to be sanctimonious? He'd once thought the same way_._ "She's beautiful," he said. "Not just attractive. Beautiful."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. She's an amazing person, too. You could talk to her for hours, never get bored."

"You don't happen to know if she gamed?" Zach said, his tone wistful.

"What?"

"Well, she sounds the perfect woman. So, you know. Does she game? Smash Brothers, Soul Calibur, Counterstrike, I'm not particular..."

"Virtual reality asskicking sessions?" Neo said gravely. "She was the best. Especially martial arts, guns. Could take out a SWAT team without blinking." He thought for a moment. "She had a Ducati, too, now I think of it. Terrifying on the thing. Fearless."

"Okay, now you're just mocking me..."

"I swear to you, I'm not."

Zach was looking at him, head shaking. "Man."

"What?"

"You... you _dated_ her, didn't you? Holy fuck._ The_ Trinity." He shook his head again. "No wonder you can code like that."

Neo smiled. "She never taught me to code."

"She didn't?"

"No." He was thoughtful for a moment. "Showed me everything else worth knowing, though."

"So what happened?"

Neo looked up. "Hmm?"

"Well. She sounds amazing. You sound crazy about her. So what happened?"

Neo had no idea what to say. _She died - again, actually, but this was in the real world, so more of an issue - and is currently being reconstructed in a biopod by the elite race of machines that have enslaved us all and drugged us with a virtual reality dreamworld known as the Matrix... _yeah. Perhaps not. But how the hell to explain this in a way that wasn't a lie? _She's kind of busy at the moment - be back at some point? _No. The fact the machines would protect her now, rather than hunt her down - that being THE Trinity was no longer a death sentence, no longer mandated fugitive status - didn't alter the fact that her identity wasn't his secret to share. It was hers. And once she started at Metacortex, Zach might well work the connection out. Shit. He'd been a fucking moron. Loneliness and grief was fucking with his head, his boundaries. And living in a program full-time was shaking his grip, too.

The silence lengthened, and then became uncomfortable. Zach coughed. "I'm sorry, man. I didn't mean... hey, it's none of my business."

"It's okay," Neo said. "But I don't... it's kind of private."

Zach reached for his Dr Pepper, but he didn't drink. He toyed with the glass for a minute, shooting a swift look at Neo from the corner of his eye. "I heard... I heard some weird rumors online about, uh, Trinity."

"Really." Neo's voice became cool. The machines were capable of playing very, very dirty. If they'd spread vicious gossip, he didn't need to know. They were at peace now. The machines were helping her - hell, they'd saved her life. Residual anger wouldn't help anyone.

"Yeah. Supposedly involved with this... Matrix business."

Neo looked up. "Matrix business?"

"Yeah." Zach frowned. "I knew some guys who were dead set on finding out what it was."

"Past tense?"

"Excuse me?"

"Past tense. You said you _knew_ them. That they _were_ dead set."

"Yeah," Zach said uncomfortably. "That's just the thing. They disappeared."

"Disappeared?"

"Yeah. One day they were just... gone. No trace of them at all. Weird, right?"

"Yeah."

"So I'm sorry. Didn't mean to be insensitive. If - well." Zach hesitated. "Like I said, it's none of my business."

"Forget it." Neo glanced at his watch. "Shit, is that the time? We need to get back."


	3. Probation

"Tom? This a bad time?"

He shook his head, reflexively courteous. The truth was, he was longing to leave. By Friday afternoons, he was always running on empty.

"Hey Katelyn. What can I do for you?"

She shut the door behind her, walked across, and took a chair. His heart sank.

"I'm sorry to bother you so late in the day," she said, "but Mr Wachynski asked me to get this file to you in person. It's a bit of a delicate situation, you see, it has to be in the strictest confidence."

"Delicate?" he said warily.

Katelyn was head of HR. The last time she'd done this - closed the door, sat down, mentioned that word - he'd had to discipline a programmer for perpetual tardiness. He'd been hard put to it not to tell the kid the job was a joke, and he should focus his energies somewhere more productive.

She smiled. "Don't worry, nothing disciplinary. In fact it's kind of sad, actually. We had this new hire back in the summer - brilliant senior programmer, worked on classified government projects in DC, grad school at MIT and Berkeley. Just a fantastic candidate. The references are extraordinary; some very big names, and all of them loathe to lose her. We don't know why she wanted to come here at all, quite frankly - she just said personal reasons; time for a change, a better work/life balance. Nobody was inclined to argue, as you can imagine."

He felt time slow down around him. "She?"

"I know, right? And that was another factor in how excited the board were. It's such great PR, having a woman programming at that level, and there aren't many who can. But then there was this terrible accident, the day before she was due to start." She sighed. "DUI. Some guy with a truck. At an intersection. Not a thing she could have done, apparently - was all him. Head-on collision."

"A truck?" he repeated stupidly. He couldn't think.

"Mmm, terrible thing. She was really badly smashed up. Apparently they weren't hopeful she'd even live for the first few days. She technically died for a couple minutes, according to the records she's supplied here," she indicated the file between them on the desk, "but they restarted her heart somehow. She was lucky. She was just two minutes to the Memorial Faith."

"Sounds like the only piece of luck she had," he said.

"Absolutely. Seems she suffered brain damage, poor girl. Just tragic, especially with someone that gifted."

"Brain damage?" His heart was suddenly in his throat. "What do you mean?"

"Memory loss, is all they're sure about. There was some aphasia, but that seems to have passed. But they can't set her up as a senior now, at least not until they've monitored her performance and seen what's going on with her - but they don't want to risk losing her, either. She's quite exceptional, apparently. Well worth the investment if she can just get back in the game."

"Why are you telling me?" he asked. "I mean, she's my level. If she's meant to be a senior. This isn't my business to know, surely?"

"They're creating an interim role for her. Her duties won't be different to a junior programmer, at least to start with, but they're calling it a Special Program Services role. She gets a demi-office, not a cube. And while they don't want you to supervise, they do want to know how she's getting on. Any improvements, deterioration, problematic oversights. Monitor how she's performing." She hesitated. "Especially if she's in any way erratic. If you understand me."

"Check her work. Make sure she doesn't screw up for a client. Gauge how much damage was done, if any. But don't let her know it?"

She smiled, relieved. "Exactly. It's delicate, as I said. We don't want to offend her."

"Yeah," Neo said, remembering the rare occasions he'd seen her genuinely angry. "I can understand that."

She hesitated, before venturing, "Honestly, Tom? I don't want her feelings hurt either. She's been through a lot. And I figured you'd be understanding of her situation."

"Yeah. I will be." He didn't know what else to say.

"Like I say, they're anxious to retain her - the medics are hopeful of a full recovery. The reports she's had sent through are highly confidential, obviously..."

"I wouldn't tell anyone this stuff. Not my story to tell. And I appreciate it's confidential."

She nodded, relieved. "Yeah, I told Mr W you were the guy. For the job, I mean. It had to be one of the seniors capable of assessing her work. She's too advanced for that to be many."

"Well. Thank you."

He didn't process the rest of the small talk before she left; just responded with automatic politeness. He was focused entirely on the black concertina file before him; the first real, detailed information on Trinity he'd had access to in weeks. As soon as she left, he tore it open and pulled out the paperwork.

The photo startled him most. It wasn't real, of course. It was strange, this person who was Trinity, and yet not Trinity at all. Her expression was familiar - set mouth, tensed jaw, level gaze - and all wrong, in context. She wore civilian clothes with loose, ungelled hair, and no sunglasses. It was unsettling. The demarcation had always been so absolute - and now his warm, sensitive lover, and the ruthlessly capable, aggressive soldier, had somehow morphed into one image.

He found himself wondering who, exactly, she'd be here. That had been his greatest anxiety, right from the start. That the brain damage would have changed her; that the Trinity he so desperately missed would no longer exist at all. He knew it wouldn't alter his love for her. Nothing could do that, not after all they'd shared, all she'd done for him, everything they'd been to one another. But it would break his heart, just the same. And the hospital reports he leafed through - showing huge gaps in memory, and, far worse, occasionally erratic cognitive function - were useless. He had no idea if they were accurate and reflective of damage, or just glitches with the false memory uploads.

The one thing that consoled him was the resume. The machines had really gone to town in an effort to explain her skills and experience. She had the most gilt-edged employment history imaginable, plus grad school accolades that would ensure absolute respect from her peers. The fact they'd created such a startlingly impressive cover story reassured him: it implied a need to explain a startlingly impressive level of skill.

When he finally reached her SAT scores and basic data, he started to feel awkward. This stuff was probably more than just cover. This stuff, he suspected, was real - or at least, she'd believed it to be, at the time. It was personal.

He hated her name. _Alice_, for God's sake. No wonder she was known by her surname - Mackenzie, apparently.

She'd never told him anything of her Matrix self. He'd never asked. It hadn't mattered. Her birthday was the day she'd been freed; her name was the one she'd chosen; her home was Zion; her workplace the Neb. It felt somehow prurient, intrusive - creepy - to be reading this without her knowledge. And then he suddenly remembered: lying in their Zion bed, Trinity in his arms, hearing of endless nights before the Matrix feed. While an oblivious Thomas Anderson went about his life, unaware that he was being watched. Watched by a woman who'd read every file on him that ever existed, who knew more about him than he did about himself. Knew more about everything than he did, in fact. And he'd never felt betrayed by it. In fact he'd felt watched over, protected.

_I guess this makes us even_.

He smiled, and put a finger to her digitized face.

* * *

She didn't recognize him at all.

She'd shaken his hand firmly, then accepted the chair opposite and sat, coolly appraising him, as he'd gazed impassively back.

"I've seen your resume," he said. "It's very impressive."

"Thank you."

"I hope you won't be too bored."

"I'm just glad to be back. Working, I mean."

"Yeah. I heard about the accident. I'm sorry."

"Me too," she said. Her face was expressionless.

"So. I understand that you're going to be in this role for a short while, so you have a chance to, uh..."

"Complete my probationary period?"

"I wouldn't call it that," he said.

She smiled slightly. "No, I know. But that doesn't alter the facts." She nodded towards the disk before him. "That the brief?"

"Yeah. I thought we could run through it this morning over coffee, discuss how you want to attack it."

"If it's okay with you, I'd rather take it away, have a look, and then mail my proposals. I work better that way. More efficient." He was silent, trying to hide the bitter disappointment, and she frowned. "Look, I won't do a thing without sending it over first. You don't need to concern yourself with that. And I'm sure you've got a lot to do."

"I thought it might help. You know, two heads and all that."

She looked at him, her eyes clear. "You have to check my work. I appreciate the necessity. I'm not about to pretend that you have a choice, or even that the board do. I'm brain injured. And nobody can know how badly, not even me. So please, let me discover my limitations in my own time, in my own way, and then we can assess what we do with that information, once we have it."

He stared at her, at a loss for words. A wave of huge relief hit him as he took this in - the intelligence, the honesty, the faith in her own judgement. The ability to look a brutal reality in the face with nothing but lucid, quiet courage.

"Sure," he said at last. "But for what it's worth, I think your limitations will be pretty much what they always were."

She raised an eyebrow. "Thank you," she said. Her face was impassive, but he knew that expression too well to be fooled. "I hope your faith is justified."

"Call it an educated guess," he said, his voice quiet.

Their eyes met, and there was silence for a moment. Then he stood up and abruptly turned away to the window, furious with himself. He'd been in her company less than ten minutes, and already he was crossing the line. The Oracle was right - the connection was too damn strong.

"Okay," he said, tone brisk, "you know how you work best, so we'll go with that. I'll take you to your office, so you can make a start." He moved to the door and held it open. "You're in with someone called Zach. You can ask him if you need anything. He's..." he hesitated. "I just figured you'd get along."

"Reassuring," she said, as she followed him out of the office, and over to the elevator.

He hit the elevator button. "Reassuring?"

She looked at him briefly, and then did a slight double-take. He remembered that, from the very early days on the Neb. It was so swift as to be almost imperceptible, but he knew what it meant. She'd told him herself. Every time she'd seen him, she said, she'd had to look twice, just to make sure. He'd asked, what about? But she hadn't answered him directly. She'd just kissed him instead.

"Reassuring," he said again. "Why?"

"It's nothing."

"Then indulge me."

She looked at him again, as though assessing her next move. Then she shrugged a little. "When starting a job, I'm yet to be told that my manager wants to incinerate a co-worker. Or that I'll hate them." The elevator pinged, and the doors parted. As she stepped out, she added gravely, over her shoulder, "On the first day, that is. _Those_ revelations take at least a week."


	4. Calculations

He saw her as soon as he left the elevator, the other side of the room.

He knew that frown. It meant a tension headache.

As he watched, she dipped her head a little; rubbed her neck to try to relieve the pain. His poor Trinity. On the Neb, he'd have stopped whatever he was doing to move over and rub it for her, his fingers massaging out the knots, her shoulders slowly relaxing. She'd once told him it was the only remedy that'd ever worked. He grimaced a little, watching. Virtual nothing; the pain was going to be eyewatering an hour or so from now.

He sighed, and began making his way over.

Zach was leaning over her, one palm braced on her desk, his laptop before them. "I can't work out what I'm doing wrong," he was saying, frustrated.

"It's inefficient," she said slowly, eyes narrowed as she scanned the screen. "Cluttered. It works, but it's..." she hesitated, plainly trying to find a courteous way to put it.

"Ugly?" he suggested.

"Well..." she made a face, apologetic, unable to deny it. "Look. Here, here and here..." the mouse darted away, "...it's always going to raise concurrency issues, if you tackle it like that. Which is inevitably going to affect stability as well as speed. If you alter the parameters _so_," she typed swiftly, "and apply that consistently, you'll avoid the problem altogether. Sidestep it. And then the algorithms will be..."

"Much better," Zach said, and smiled.

"Well. Cleaner, anyway."

"Cleaner is always better. Can you explain how you identified it, though?"

"Hey," Neo said. "Am I interrupting?"

Trinity glanced up, and once again, she did a swift double take. It was over almost before it began, but he'd seen it. The urge to touch her strengthened.

"Hello," she said, and then frowned at the screen. "No, not at all. Zach and I are just working on this."

"Hardly," Zach said, and grinned at Neo. "She's working on it. I'm getting a masterclass."

It was wonderful to see her, stand near to her, hear her even, quiet voice as she analyzed the problem at hand with calm assurance. If he could have closed his eyes, he'd have imagined himself back on the Neb; Trinity resolving the apparently irresolvable with her usual effortless skill.

She moved the laptop back towards Zach, having broken down the difficulty succinctly. "Unless Tom has anything to add, of course?"

"No. That was perfect."

"Thanks so much, Mackenzie. Just couldn't work out what the hell I was doing wrong." He looked at Neo. "She's good, hey?"

"Very."

"Oh, everyone gets that way sometimes." She capped a pen, and put it back in the pot by her monitor. "You spend so long on something, you can't see straight anymore. Needs a fresh pair of eyes."

Zach smiled. "No. It was just too hard. I couldn't have done -" he gestured at the screen, "_that_. No way."

"Well. Nor could I, couple years ago." And then she paused suddenly, her eyes distant. Seemingly lost in memory, and confused.

Neo knew why. She was aware of the cognitive dissonance now; aware something was amiss. He hated that she had to endure this all over again. He was struggling, stuck in this place, but at least he knew what the problem _was_. It had to be a million times worse for her - a person who'd already known freedom, but couldn't remember it; grappling with memories she didn't trust, even though it made no sense to doubt them. He wanted so badly to console her, but he had to stand by as Zach touched her shoulder instead.

"'Kenzie?" said Zach, his voice very gentle. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, and rubbed her neck again. "Headache, that's all."

"You want some Advil?"

"No. No need. It's just caffeine withdrawal." She looked up at Neo then. "You want to go get some coffee?"

Every instinct he had screamed at him to leap at the opportunity. He'd have at least a half hour alone with her, and at this point, that felt like a deal worth dying for. But the Oracle's words kept playing in his mind.

_She needs to believe in a nice dull past and a nice dull job. Put you together, and she'll force past the programming in a week._

She needed to get well. Nothing else mattered._  
_

"Thanks, but I'd better get back. Another time, maybe."

She nodded, without showing any of the disappointment he sensed, and stood up. "Fair enough. Zach?"

* * *

"_Shit_."

He pulled himself out from under a pad and looked over. "Are you alright, Captain?"

"Yeah, s'just a burn. Small one at that." She grimaced. "Goddamn _rookie_ mistake, though. Been years since I've gotten burned."

"Yes, but you've hardly slept in days."

A slow smile spread across her face, and she raised an eyebrow at him. Ghost sighed.

"Delighted as I remain for you and Morpheus, that's overshare. I was_ referring_ to the hours you're putting in here."

"I'm sorry," she said, looking entirely unrepentant. "But c'mon, you did walk into it."

She returned to her work, chuckling. Ghost did not. After a few minutes, she turned back. "Ghost?"

"Hmm?" His voice was muffled.

"She's gonna be_ fine_."

He said nothing.

"She is gonna be fine," she repeated. "Goddamn. If it's not you, it's Morpheus. She's _alive_, for crying out loud. More than anyone expected, last time we saw her. Isn't that worth something?"

"You know what the message said. They don't know the extent of the damage."

"Oh get out of here. Trinity always had more lives than a cat. And if they wanna save her, and Lord knows, it sounded like they're making it their mission in life - then they will." She snorted. "Those bastards can do anything, pretty well. And now they're for us. Not against us."

"They're for Neo, perhaps. I'm not sure they are us."

"I think Neo and _us_ is pretty well one and the same to the machines. Hell, Trinity definitely is."

"Morpheus doubts whether saving her matters to them as much as convincing Neo they tried." Ghost said quietly.

"And Morpheus," she said, "is feeling guilty as shit. It's making him afraid to hope."

"Guilty?" Ghost blinked. "Why? Nobody supported them more."

She hesitated. If Ghost knew the decision Morpheus and Roland had taken - to leave the Logos to Bane - he'd find it hard to forgive him. She'd agreed, when they told her. There was no other option. But she wasn't sure Ghost would see it that way, not when it came to leaving Trinity in the hands of a murderer.

No, she wasn't about to share that.

"He doubted Neo," she said instead. "After the source thing messed up. He feels pretty badly over it."

"Everyone but Trinity doubted, then." He paused, and added, "Except you. You began to believe. I have never understood that."

"What can I say. I'm a natural born contrarian."

"Am I supposed to argue? Because I can't think of any grounds."

She smiled. "Me neither. And Ghost? She's gonna make it."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He's not back. So she's still alive. That simple."

* * *

"You okay?" Neo asked. Zach had been staring across the bar for ten minutes, evidently in a world of his own.

"Huh?"

"You seem a little distracted."

"Oh. No, I'm fine."

"Well, good. Thought something was wrong."

"Not wrong, exactly." He made a face. "It's stupid, actually. Really stupid."

"What is?"

Zach took a deep breath. "It's a girl."

"Ah," said Neo, a little amused. "Of course."

"You ever felt like, you just have to see someone, and it's like..." the voice trailed off. "God. I can't even describe it."

"Like you can hardly breathe?" said Neo.

Zach grinned, embarrassed. "You have."

"Yeah."

"I can't imagine that. You always seem so calm."

"There're always exceptions. She at the office, this breath thief?"

"Yes."

"So what does she do? Secretarial, reception, what?"

"No. She's," he snuck Neo a swift smile, "a programmer."

Neo froze.

"She's so insanely gifted, you know?"

"Yeah," Neo managed. "I know."

"She looks the way she does, and she moves the way she does, and she's so quiet, and calm, and then she just does shit nobody can believe. Does it like it's nothing at all." Zach shook his head. "People started asking. Once they realized. She just said, she always liked puzzles, enigmas, working shit out. Beating systems. And then they asked where she went to school." He smiled. "Harvard. And grad school at Berkeley and MIT."

His throat was dry. He cleared it. "Impressive."

"Yeah, but she doesn't give a crap. Really doesn't. She's confident and all, don't get me wrong, but she's kind of... quiet about it. She just gets on with things."

"Genuine confidence. No ego?"

"Yeah. Yeah, that's it exactly. And she can handle herself, too." He chuckled. "You heard she told Caleb off yesterday? He never left her alone, and then suddenly he got kind of dirty over it - you know Caleb - and she turned round and tore him a new one. Suggested he get himself a blowup doll because it might appreciate his advances more, that kind of thing. Final line was _I suggest you go fuck yourself, because you aren't going to fuck me_. Didn't even raise her voice, but Christ, she was scary. Trust me, you do not ever want to piss that woman off."

"Uh huh."

"And this sounds perverse, but that - the way she could do that - it was _hot_. When she's usually just really cool with people - really patient, really reasonable, just never bitchy at all. And she's so quick. Quick-witted. But so calm, too. Just really - I don't even know. It's like she's found some kind of zen state, so she can do shit at the speed of sound inside of it." He rubbed his eyes. "God. It sounds crazy."

"No," Neo said quietly. He felt sick. "No, it doesn't."

"And I don't want to sound like Caleb - I mean, you know. That's not what it's about. Or not only, anyway. But you know something? When you first brought her up, I thought she was okay looking. Bit too thin, bit uptight, but okay. But the more time I spend with her... just, fuck." He stared down at the table. "Don't laugh. But at this point, I think she's probably the most beautiful girl I ever saw."

Neo swallowed. "I won't laugh," he said. "But Zach, you know, she probably... she may already have someone."

"I know. I know that. Of course I know that. And I know she's way the hell out of my league, too. But Christ. No law against hope, you know?"

There was a silence.

Then Zach spoke again. "Oh, and thanks."

"For what?"

"Look, I know she likes you." He shrugged, a little dispirited. "They always do. So I appreciated it, you blocking her today. I mean, I did wonder if you'd be interested in her. She's... yeah. If it was gonna be anyone, you know? So I was relieved, I have to say."

Neo was speechless. It just kept getting worse.

"Some of the other girls were talking," Zach went on. "About you. When she was there. And it sounds bad, but I was relieved she heard it."

Yeah. Definitely kept getting worse. "What were they saying?"

"Just that you never date anyone. Never seem interested in women at all." He fidgeted. "Uh, I hope you don't mind, but I kind of mentioned that you were really, really into someone."

Neo stared at him. "You did what?"

"Oh, not who she was! Just that I figured it was why. Why you didn't want to know about anyone else, I mean."

"You gossiped about my personal life," Neo said slowly, "to give yourself a better shot?"

"No, it wasn't like that..."

"So tell me. What was it like?"

Zach looked even more awkward. "It doesn't matter. Forget it."

"I think that's for me to decide."

He fidgeted a minute more, then said in a rush, "Well, Caleb kind of made out that you were, uh, gay."

"And?" Neo said blankly.

"And you're _not_!"

Neo closed his eyes, suddenly exhausted. "For fuck's sake, Zach. I don't care if they think I'm screwing every guy in the city. I'd rather they gossip about that, than about," he sighed, remembering Trinity's face as he'd refused her invitation to coffee, "my life."

Zach was quiet a moment. Then he said, "I'm sorry. But I didn't think you'd be okay with that. I wouldn't be." He hesitated. "Look, I'd never mean to screw with you. I hope you know that."

Neo looked at him. He'd rarely felt so defeated. But at the same time, was it Zach's fault? How was he to know? And given the situation, perhaps it was just as well if she did think Neo involved with another woman. If he knew anything, it was that she'd never go there. So the belief was a protection for her, of a kind. And when the inevitable happened - when he and Trinity were reunited - Zach was going to go through hell, too. Did he really deserve anger over something essentially minor, on top? Neo already had everything Zach wanted in life, knowingly and otherwise. The truth, his freedom, and Trinity. If that wasn't reason to be generous, Neo didn't know what was.

"Just... never again, Zach. Seriously."

He nodded, his expression sober. "I understand. Really. I do. I mean, I fucking hate it when they gossip about Kenzie. So of course you feel the same about - well. Her."

Sometimes, Neo reflected, lost for words for the umpteenth time; sometimes, he just wished he could get back to the day job. Being savior of the world wasn't a lot of fun, it was true. But it had at least been a damn sight less complicated.


	5. Believe

"There seems to be some suspicion in Zion."

"Suspicion?" He was confused. "What about?"

"About you not going home. Just sending messages. They're not happy."

Neo's mouth tightened. "Yeah. Well, I have other priorities."

"They just want to see you. Make sure we're being honest; that you're okay. Is that so bad?"

"It is if they want me to leave her here."

"No, they don't want you to leave her. They want the both of you home."

"And she's too sick."

The Oracle lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "They need to know that. That you're both still alive, and here voluntarily, and why."

"Haven't they been told?"

"Yes. But they can't get to broadcast depth, so they're relying on our word for it. That we're reporting your wishes honestly. And they weren't ever going to trust that for long, were they?"

"But the war's over," he said. "Do they want another?"

"It's loyalty, Neo. To you and to her, after all you've done for Zion. They're misguided, that's all. Their intentions are good."

"So what do you want to do?" He looked at her. "Or want me to do?"

"Go home. Oh," as he began to protest, appalled, "just for a few days. Just long enough to talk to them, explain. That we're not keeping you and Trinity hostage."

"Hostage?"

"That's the fear in Zion. There's a ship nearing completion, it seems. The message was, send the two of you home, or they come and find you themselves. And the worry our side is that trying to stop them - interfering in human affairs - could be seen as a hostile act. So nobody could risk it. Not to save her from her own people. And they may find her before they do you, given how changed your code is now. Get her out, before you can stop them. She's looking for the answer already. She knows the question. She'd pick red without even blinking - you know she would."

"But if they get her out too soon," he said, horrified fear in every syllable, "they'll kill her."

She nodded, her eyes on his. "Probably. Yes."

"Jesus Christ. Don't they know that?"

"They've been told it. Problem is, they don't believe it, not anymore. They're too used to the war to trust us. They don't understand why we'd help her this much, they assume they could care for her as well if not better, and they don't believe the messages you send are from you at all. They think you both need rescuing."

His face set. "So when do I go?"

* * *

She pulled the chair over to his desk, side-on to him, then propped herself on one elbow and focused on the printout.

His eyes automatically followed the slope of her neck and shoulders, the silk shirt sliding away from her collarbone as she leaned, exposing an extra inch of pale, flawless skin. He remembered the first weeks of freedom on the Neb, when she'd seemed the only beautiful thing left in a post-apocalyptic world. He'd traced that same line with his eyes then, over and over, imagining his fingers moving down it, his lips following. It had haunted his dreams, back when he was way too intimidated by her to dare to fantasize anything more overt. Though he'd never tired of the reality, or the fantasy either, even later, when he'd had so many other options.

She suddenly seemed to sense his gaze and looked up abruptly, curiosity in her eyes. Catching him red-handed, staring at her neck. Thank God he'd been caught looking somewhere so unobjectionable; he wouldn't always have been so lucky lately. As the fear receded, the desire was returning in force, and he was way too accustomed to her welcoming it. There was a gulf between what she'd want from her lover, in the throes of a white-hot affair, and what she'd accept from some random co-worker. He was increasingly paranoid that she'd somehow retained the ability to read his thoughts - she'd always been so terrifyingly perceptive. What if she suspected what went through his mind now, whenever he saw her? Or worse, each night, in the freedom of his dreams?

He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry to land all this on you," he said. "Mr Wachynski figured you were the only senior who could handle it without falling behind."

"I'm not a senior," she reminded him. There was no edge to the remark. She was simply stating a fact; she'd always hated exaggeration, and she was right. Officially, she wasn't. It made him smile, this exactness, this precision. Every new proof of her being the person she'd always been - her personality blessedly, miraculously intact, even after all she'd been through - reminded him that this was all worth it. Worth it a thousand times over. And that, he thought, was no exaggeration at all.

"What?" she said, curious.

"Hmm?"

"You smiled."

He looked at her. "Is that such a big event?"

"It's definitely a rare event."

That silenced him. She rarely smiled either; the fact she had, always, smiled so much more with him had been a source of pride. He'd never stopped to think about it from the other side. He suddenly realized that, in this place, he hardly smiled at all. There'd been so little cause.

"I'm sorry," she said after a moment of lengthening silence. "That was a personal remark."

"No, it's fine. I just... I guess I'd never realized. That I haven't smiled a lot, lately."

She was silent, but from the corner of his eye he could see her venturing a look in his direction. Then she said, "I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. Well." He gestured towards the disks. "I've created an urgency hierarchy - did you get the email?"

"I did. Thanks."

"And we both know that you are a senior. Incidentally."

"It's not my official title. Not anymore."

"But an unofficial fact. And it will be official, as of next week. I've been told there's no need to liaise over your workload any further when I get back. That has to be why."

She looked at him. "You weren't meant to tell me that, were you?"

"No. But you're not about to land me in shit over it, so why not? It's your life."

She was thinking, brow furrowed. "But that means they'll move me down here, into an office."

"Yeah. They're clearing the one outside the stationery closet. I imagine that's why."

She sighed. "Damn."

"What?"

"Oh, just that I'll miss Zach. He's been great - you were right."

"He's a nice kid," Neo agreed, his voice carefully neutral.

"Kid?" She raised an eyebrow, amused. "He's only a couple years younger than I am."

"Then I guess you're naturally mature."

"My husband always used to say that."

"Your... _what_?" He caught himself. "You're married? Or... were married?"

"Were." She smiled then, affectionate, reminiscent. "He was my best friend. Still is, I hope."

Neo nodded, confused. "So where is he now?"

"Australia. Working on some ecological project on the Barrier Reef."

"He didn't come back when you were hurt?" His brain was working overtime. What the hell were the machines playing at? _Married_? And to somebody else?

"Nobody told him - we're divorced, so it'd hardly have been automatic, I guess. And by the time I was well enough..." she shrugged. "He'd only have come back, worried himself sick. Couldn't have done anything. It might have jeopardized his job." She hesitated, and then went on, "We had a year's no-contact deal, you see. When I left. Ghost needed that."

"Ghost?"

She smiled again, the same affection in her eyes, as she remembered. "A nickname. Like Ghost in the Machine, you know? Because he could do anything he wanted with them. He was doing a PhD when I was a sophomore. He helped me a lot, he's a brilliant programmer. We worked on a lot of projects together. Like I say, he was always my best friend. We never should have gotten married, but it was just so easy. And by the time I grew up enough to figure life isn't meant to be easy, we'd been married five years."

"You don't think life is meant to be easy?"

She looked up, surprised. "Not unless you want to sleepwalk through it."

"Well," he said. "It's nice that you stayed friends."

"That was easy, too." She smiled. "He was always great to me, even when we broke up. Must be the only guy in history to want his wife to get more money than her lawyer suggested."

"Did you give in?"

"No. I earn my own. He knew that. Was just worried, this being such an expensive city. He gets a place to live with his job, you see."

"No regrets, then. From the sounds."

"Over Ghost? God, never." She paused a moment, and then said, "how about you? Ever been married?"

"No."

She waited a moment, and when he didn't speak, she said apologetically, "I heard you were living with someone. You know what this place is like."

He looked up, surprised. "You heard wrong."

"Oh? Well, office gossip. Never the most reliable."

"There is someone," he said abruptly. "But she..." he hesitated. "She's very sick," he said. "I don't talk about her much."

"That's hard. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Harder for her. She..." he hesitated again. "She can't remember a lot."

"Remember?"

"About anything. No. She's lost her past, pretty much."

"Does that include you?"

The tone was so gentle, it started tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He closed them and nodded, mute.

"She may be unlucky there," she said, her voice very quiet. "But you sound like you love her very much. And being loved that way - that's lucky. Always."

He raised his head and looked at her, and the raw pain in his eyes made her reach instinctively for his hand. "I'm so sorry," she said again, as his fingers closed over her own.

He waited for her to become awkward, to notice how totally bizarre it was for her to initiate physical contact with a near-stranger - almost as bizarre as initiating this personal a conversation - but she didn't. She simply sat in silence for a few minutes, her hand resting in his.

"That's why you have to go away, isn't it," she said eventually. "Related to this."

He nodded again, afraid speech would break the spell.

"Okay. Well, don't worry about the work. I've got that covered."

He smiled a little, though the urge to cry persisted. "That's the last thing I'd worry about. You're a better programmer than I am."

"I doubt that." She smiled, but took her hand away. He saw the defenses start to rise again. "I'm really sorry to do this, but I do have to get back. Zach asked me for some help on Russell and Reece."

He rubbed his eyes swiftly. "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm touched. You look about as likely to share personal info with most people as..." she paused a moment, "well. Me." She stood up, and gathered the disks, the notes, and her own files together. At the door she paused, her fingers resting on the handle. "But if you ever want to talk about it, you know where I am."

"Thanks."

She hesitated a moment, before saying gently, "What's her name?"

"Trinity."

"That's nice. Unusual. I like it."

"Yeah. Same."

"Does it suit her?"

He did smile then, looking up at her. "Like you wouldn't believe," he said.


	6. Impermeable

The exhilaration of work had disguised the faultlines in the marriage for years. They'd had such fun professionally, were such truly loving and supportive friends, that she'd just accepted a very low-key sex life as the price for their compatibility elsewhere. She'd always assumed that this trade-off was mutual. So she'd been indescribably shocked, in couples counseling, when he said that their physical relationship was flawless - that he still caught his breath every time he saw her, that no other woman had ever affected him as she did, compelled him as she did, attracted him as she did. Their only problem, he said, was over-work. They were always too tired to make love, too busy for vacations, too focused on the office. If they could just cut back, make space for one another, for romance, then all would be well. She'd stared at him, jaw ajar, too stunned to argue. Work, to her, was the only thing that struck any sparks. Work _was_ the basis of their relationship; it always had been. The thought of two weeks at some tropical resort - nothing to do, a king-sized bed looming ominously - made her guts plummet to her shoes. She'd suddenly realized with absolute clarity that it wasn't a question of if she had an affair, but when. And she'd known, in that same second, that it was over. It had to be. She loved him far too much for anything else.

The research projects they'd worked on together had been gloriously challenging, truly cutting-edge; they'd stretched her to her intellectual limits and beyond. But it didn't pay anything like as well as the commercial sector. She'd taken the job at Metacortex so Ghost could know she could cope financially, that her standard of living wouldn't drop unacceptably if she kept refusing a settlement from him. She had to admit, she'd been less than keen on the move. Metacortex hired only the best, and they paid very handsomely indeed, but under all the clever marketing, the slick, commercialized sheen, the place was just a code factory. Not somewhere she'd ever imagined herself, back when she'd had the luxury of following her interests and not her paychecks. But things had changed. Her priorities had changed. And suddenly, it was the option that made the most sense. A boring, well-paid job wasn't that big a sacrifice, not for the person you loved most in the world. It had felt like the one thing she could do for him, to repay his unstinting love, his patient understanding, even when she left.

_A heart isn't a lock, Mackenzie. You can't force it. Just say what you need from me - it'll always be yours. No questions, no arguments. Just yours.  
_

He'd always protected her from pain, from risk, from hurt. But in some ways, he'd also protected her from living. He was a cautious, considered, patient man, and she loved him for it, despite being so very different herself. But she'd grown more different from him as the years passed, not less. More reckless, more instinctive. Now, she wanted to try everything, and to hell with the consequences. Leap into the unknown without looking first. Love with a grand passion, not a gentle glow. It was childish. Unrealistic. Even downright ridiculous. But she felt it, nonetheless. It was part of what ate at her, part of what drove her, what led her to search for answers to the question that haunted her constantly. Something, she knew, was terribly wrong with the world. But then again, perhaps it was just that something was terribly wrong with _her_.

She'd been so sensible, so grown-up, marrying for loving friendship, not passion. It was only lately that she'd come to understand that the lack of passion would, given time, have killed the friendship, never mind the love. And that friendship - Ghost's friendship - was the bedrock of her life. Without it, she'd be in freefall.

She loved him profoundly. The trouble was, she loved him platonically.

The sensible choice had been insanity, after all.

* * *

When she'd woken in that hospital bed, learned what had happened, all she could feel for days was immense relief that she was likely to get full cognitive function back. As time went by, she was also relieved to find that her health insurance from the new job had kicked in, covering most of her bills. Because she still _had_ the new job. They'd waited for her, despite her injuries, despite the contract she'd signed having been effectively frustrated. They really hadn't had to. There was no legal or moral obligation, and they couldn't even be sure she'd be any good once the rehab was done with. But they'd waited, just the same. They'd believed in her.

Her low-level resentment of Metacortex waned, and then turned to gratitude when she learned the lengths they'd gone to accommodate her. The bullshit about their being a corporate family turned out to be truer than she'd imagined. Her salary remained the same, but a new, interim role was found for her, just until her functioning could be assessed - more than reasonable, she knew. And they'd selected a shrewd, dignified, charismatic programmer to watch over her, whom she'd liked and respected from the first meeting. She soon discovered that almost everyone did.

She'd not known programmers_ could_ be that charismatic. Ghost was too, in a quiet way, but it was all purely cerebral; a brilliant academic with a wry, deadpan wit. A recognizable type. This guy was different - he wasn't like any geek she'd ever encountered. Tall, commanding, almost frighteningly handsome, he was so comfortable in his own skin it was like he bent the laws of physics as he moved. She was physically poised herself, the legacy of a childhood ballet habit, and she'd never met anyone else in her line of work who'd matched that simple grace. But Tom Anderson easily surpassed it, to the point she'd sometimes feel a little gauche in his presence. He rarely smiled, never gossiped, was extraordinarily self-composed, but he also exuded decency. He was someone you could trust. And he was exceedingly smart, too. Even smarter than Ghost, she suspected, and he was the only programmer she'd deferred to in years.

He always listened to her with courtesy and interest; never patronized her, never ordered her around, never thought her gender might impact on her intelligence and skill. He'd just assumed she was his professional equal, from the moment they met. He was, very obviously, not the kind of man to find stupidity an asset in a woman. In short, he made her feel at home. Spending time with him recreated a little of the atmosphere Ghost had always generated for his teams, where nothing mattered but integrity and talent. And to create that environment, she knew, you had to possess those qualities yourself.

She'd never been egotistical about male attention. She'd always been far too much of an acquired taste for that to be possible; men either found her well-nigh irresistible, or totally unappealing. But she was aware, very early on, that Tom definitely fit into the first category. Controlled though he was, he looked at her in a way she couldn't miss. She'd sometimes catch him gazing at her, the expression in his eyes unmistakable. Not creepy. Not like Caleb. Just appreciative - and, oddly, almost yearning. She knew he was interested, just as she was. She'd have had to be a fool not to know it. And, she thought, even more of a fool not to act on it.

She'd made herself a promise in that hospital. If she made a full recovery, she'd loosen up. Grab this second chance at life; make leaving Ghost and surviving the carnage of that pileup count for something. She'd take chances, follow her instincts, have affairs based on visceral desire rather than logic, and make up for a decade of suspended animation. And this man had a powerfully visceral effect on her. He affected her every time he spoke to her, or looked at her, even just when he moved. She found his sheer physical dexterity mesmerizing. He'd been known to catch things for people mid-fall as he passed their desks, returning the item without fuss or comment, barely even breaking stride. His reflexes were quite supernaturally swift, and objects just seemed to flow into the configurations he needed whenever he moved. It was said that he used to be very different. Used to stumble, bump into things; had been awkward, almost oblivious of the physical world. She was frankly skeptical. It was simply unimaginable, Tom ever being clumsy. His large, deft, elegant hands made sense of his physical environment in a way that she found almost poetic.

She began to dream about him, three weeks or so in. Those hands, moving on her body. His brown eyes intent on hers. Making love in some strange, cave-like place, surrounded by flickering candles. They were the most erotic dreams she'd ever had, vivid and detailed, but she didn't take them seriously - she knew they just indicated the thaw, the re-emergence of all she'd kept buried for so long. But the dreams did also help clarify it for her: she wanted an affair with this man. She was under no illusion that it could live up to the dreams - sexual perfection like that didn't exist in real life - but she knew, too, that it would be pretty damn good. The chemistry was palpable now, whenever they met. She wanted him, and he wanted her. It should have been so very simple. And yet he was as impermeable as a lump of granite - she could get no purchase at all. He blocked her every attempt to strike up a friendship - he didn't want to go for coffee, he was too busy for a beer, he'd prefer a sandwich at his desk for lunch, he had plans in town when she offered a ride home. She was nonplussed by it. If he didn't dislike her - and he made his liking plain - why did he act for all the world as though he did? It was especially disconcerting that he didn't react to any of the other women as he did her. He _didn't_ react to them, period. Yet he didn't actively deflect them, either. He stubbornly avoided spending any time with her that wasn't scheduled work. He was, it seemed, determined to ensure that the sexual tension remained unresolved.

It had taken a month before the pieces slotted into place.

She'd been in the cafe at work, the other women sighing over his unattainability, his remoteness, his obvious disinterest, as she'd sipped her coffee and wondered to herself.

Caleb had scoffed. They were wasting their time, the guy was clearly gay.

"Hardly," Zach said. He inspected his muffin doubtfully, then glanced up, face expressionless. "His girlfriend's seriously hot."

Despite her shock, her disappointment, she'd almost laughed at the whiplash effect. All faces turning sharply towards Zach. Avid, agog, willing him to keep going. Everyone knew he was friends with Tom - that if anyone knew about Tom's love life, Zach would. And everyone also knew that Zach just didn't talk much at all, and never about other people's business. It was an opportunity not to be missed. But Zach said nothing more.

"Do they live together?" Anya asked, after a rapt silence had lengthened into a disappointed one.

"That's not for me to say."

"Which totally means yes." She sighed. "Crap. So that's why. We're just human wallpaper."

"Is it serious?" One of the receptionists. Pretty, blonde, couldn't even be twenty. "Like, _really_ serious? Marriage potential serious? "

Zach reflected for a while. "He likes her a lot," he said eventually. "That's all I know for sure."

"Well, what's her name? Where does she work?"

He sighed. "I really can't tell you. If you want to know, you should ask him yourself."

"Oh, get out of here!" She rolled her eyes. "He'd never tell me."

"Um, yeah. That's why I can't either." He stood up then. "Kenz? You ready? Wanna go back up?"

"Sure," she said, grateful for the escape.

She was shocked at how upset she was - how strangely hurt. After all, he owed her nothing. He'd been quietly rejecting her for weeks; putting as much distance between them as he courteously could. He was attracted to her, sure, but he also had a girlfriend he had immediately prioritized, just as he should. He'd done everything right. She'd been the idiot - for some reason, the idea he might be involved elsewhere had never even entered her head. Even now, it seemed somehow wrong. Incongruous. She couldn't take it in. And stupidly, and quite insanely, she felt betrayed.

_Get a grip, Mackenzie. Have some respect for the woman he lives with - hell, have some respect for _yourself_. __He wasn't ever yours to lose. _  


She'd pulled it together in the elevator.

"That was a nice thing you did."

"Huh?" said Zach.

"Tom. It was a nice thing to do."

"Oh, that." He fidgeted a little. "Look, I wouldn't want you to think I was, like, homophobic or anything. It's just that Caleb's..." his voice trailed off.

"An asshole?" she said simply.

He sighed. "You know, Caleb is much maligned."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, definitely," Zach said. "Just not anything like enough."


	7. REM

As time went on, she began to notice the pain that flickered in Tom's eyes whenever people talked of engagements, marriages, pregnancies, even mere dates. There was such immense sadness in him. Near despair, in fact. And it was quite definitely to do with this mysterious, never-mentioned woman. Whatever the story, this was not a happy relationship. Far from it. And she found herself wondering what he was playing at - why he chose to stay in something that seemed to bring him nothing but misery.

And then one day he'd haltingly told her of his girlfriend's illness, and the situation had come into focus with a ghastly clarity.

He loved her deeply, that much was clear. It was in the pain in his eyes when he talked of the situation, and the tenderness in his voice when he said her name. It had been most obvious of all in his choked inability to keep the conversation neutral, unemotional, pragmatic. Tom was the most reserved man she'd ever met - he made Ghost look positively effusive - so it had shocked her, seeing him that nakedly vulnerable. He'd been on the verge of tears, when admitting that the woman he loved so much no longer even knew who he was.

She was humbled, thinking what he had to live with, to endure. They'd shared great happiness, he and this Trinity. It was clear, from his grief at losing it. It horrified her - to think of having found that kind of joy, only to lose it in such a heartbreaking way. She'd never been in love herself, not really. Her relationship with Ghost had been very strong and very close, but it hadn't been the same. And glimpsing the extent of Tom's raw suffering now, seeing the price such passionate emotion could exact, she couldn't help wondering which of them had had the better deal. She was yet to come up with an answer.

It also made sense of things between Tom and herself. There was no way he and Trinity were intimate anymore, not given the situation he described. He wouldn't be human if he didn't feel the frustration, didn't miss the sexual satisfaction he'd known before it all went to hell. He was young, he was handsome, he had women all over him. Mackenzie had been quietly making herself available when she'd thought him single, yet he'd blocked her every overture, despite clear mutual interest. His absolute determination not to act on that interest - to be faithful, even when the woman he honored didn't know it - moved her almost unbearably. Nobody could have blamed him for seeking an outlet, a distraction, even. She didn't think many would opt for celibacy in his shoes. Hell, she'd known she wouldn't be able to stay faithful to Ghost in far less taxing circumstances. Yet despite everything, despite it being a struggle, faithful he was choosing to be.

She'd led such a placid, contented life; had never known real suffering or loss. The cherished only child of a middle-class family. A glittering academic record. An adoring and talented husband, and then a tenderly respectful divorce. A career she loved and excelled at, which brought her easily enough money to live on. The only real setback she'd ever had had been that accident, and really, how bad had it been, in the end? Everything had always fallen into place for her, and still she struggled, still had a horrible, unsettling sense that the world was awry. It was really rather pathetic, her existential angst. Her unquenchable obsession with the matrix problem looked pettily self-indulgent, set against the sorrows of Tom's life. Her mother had been right; her preoccupations were, essentially, those of a spoiled Westerner, one who'd never known hardship, never known suffering, never had anything more fundamental to wrestle with. She wondered if she would have had the inner resources to cope with a fraction of what Tom and Trinity did, each and every day. And the answer was as humbling as it was obvious.

No.

* * *

She dreamed about him again that night.

It was the same dream - the one she'd had for weeks. They were making love under that candlelit limestone arch; making love with extraordinary intensity, her whole body aflame with sensation, his mouth dragging over hers, his moans in her ears as her eyes slid shut.

And then something changed. This time, as he broke the kiss, he gasped out a name.

_"Trinity_."_  
_

When she woke up, she felt sick.

He was with someone else, and the woman in question was exceptionally vulnerable. She should be ashamed. She _was_ ashamed. Maybe she wasn't responsible for her dreams, but she wouldn't still be having such dreams, not if she'd made a real effort to detach when she'd first discovered he wasn't single. The truth was that until she knew about Trinity's situation, she'd been half-expecting him to end it. She'd persuaded herself that there was an ordinary, conventional explanation for his very apparent unhappiness, and deep down, she'd believed there was something very powerful between herself and him. That if she just waited a little, let him get on with working it all out with his girlfriend without distraction, he'd choose, eventually, to leave that girlfriend. And then, a little while after that, to be with her. That the only real problem was timing.

She'd been such a fool.

He'd only noticed her at all because he was heartbroken, sexually frustrated and lonely. He was deeply and irrevocably in love with someone else, and it had taken a humiliating dose of REM sleep to acknowledge the scale of her own self-deception. He was Trinity's. He would always be Trinity's, and it was right that he should be. It wasn't Trinity's fault that her life had fallen apart around her - how could she begrudge the poor woman Tom's love, on top of everything else she'd lost?

The best thing, she decided - in fact the only thing, if she really wanted to help - was to stay as far away from him as she could. To stop making his situation even harder, given he probably hated himself for being attracted to other women at all. He was a very special man, and she wasn't going to add to his pain. It was time to move on. She had no real reason to see him anymore - not now she was being reappointed a senior, would be reporting directly to management herself. And while the thought of that - whole days passing without so much as a brief consultation, or even an email - upset her, she knew, too, that this very upset was proof it was necessary.

What was it Zach had said, about her habit of over-thinking, not letting things slide? She'd had another terrible headache, had missed something ridiculous, wasted an hour, been furious with herself. He'd raised an eyebrow, snuck her a lopsided grin.

_Cry me a river, Kenz. Then just build yourself a bridge, and get the hell over it. _

It had been said with great affection, said as a joke, but it had been spot on accurate, just the same. Zach had had a point. He usually did, in fact. Especially when joking. He was a very perceptive guy.

She'd wondered for quite some time now, if Zach had ever heard of the matrix. And if so, what exactly he'd heard.

She was so sick of being cautious. Of being careful, restrained, when she was so desperate for answers. She liked him, trusted him - in a bizarre way, he was starting to remind her of Ghost. And she knew of few greater compliments than that. What the hell - she was just going to damn well come out and ask him. Compare notes, hopefully. Pool information.

After all, what was the worst that could happen?


	8. Intact

The last memory he had was of being given something to drink.

"What is this?"

"It will taste like coffee."

"But what is it?"

The program had frowned. "We do not need telephones. But we do need to send a message to the mainframe. This is the means. We also wish to buffer the process, to reduce the systemic stress upon you, and this program, once ingested, will signal that sedation is required. It is the means by which the Ones were freed before. It is not experimental, you need have no concerns about that."

"But they didn't do this in the machine city. They didn't do anything."

"That was not a possibility, in the circumstances - you were not conscious in either world. That _was_ experimental. And we are told that they had considerable difficulty in preserving your mind as a direct consequence. The shock was too great." She paused as he absorbed this, and then added with impatience, "If you have changed your mind about this departure, please advise me accordingly. We have only a brief window. I must inform my superiors of any change of plan. If you do still intend to leave, then this is the sole safe means by which to do so."

"Fine," he said, and drank.

His memories ended about six seconds later.

When he woke up he was colder, and naked, and lying under some sort of blanket. His body felt heavy.

He opened his eyes, and suddenly found his eyesight was hazy. And the light hurt.

"Try to relax, sir."

And that voice wasn't human, either.

He managed, rather shakily, to pull himself up to a sitting position, clutching the blanket to himself. "Where am I?" he said. He thought a moment. "And who are you?"

"This is a craft built to better facilitate communication between our peoples, sir. And I am the Ambassador."

"The what?"

"I was built to better facilitate communication between our peoples too, sir."

Neo blinked, and managed to focus. His vision still blurred, but he could see a vaguely humanoid shape. One obviously made of metal, admittedly, but hell, at least they'd tried.

"My name is Neo," he said.

"Indeed sir, I know. It is an honor. May I ask how your eyes feel?"

"Sore," he said. He considered a moment. "But they work. Thank you."

"Good." The Ambassador smiled. "That will be of considerable satisfaction in Zero One."

"And I can move. I mean, I don't need reconstruction. Why is that?"

"You have only been in stasis a few months. And they have been applying electrodes, I understand. In an attempt to ensure the deterioration remained as minimal as possible. That has not been necessary before. Freedom was never the openly desired outcome, in all other cases."

"So Trinity's in better shape too?"

"I regret not. They cannot apply this technique to her."

"Why not?"

"It would interfere with the life support apparatus. Electrical impulses regulate much of that system."

"So she's still on life support," Neo said, and sighed. "Right."

"Some, yes. But not to any very considerable extent, not when the past is remembered."

"So she's still improving?"

"Oh yes." The Ambassador smiled, glad to be the bearer of good news. "The arms were not problematic, at least in comparative terms. The bone grafts took well. Bone alterations are of course very commonly performed upon humans in the fields, albeit usually at the fetal stages of life, so that caused no great concern. Nor did removing the spleen. No, the main difficulty lay in adequately supporting her continued existence while the damage to her stomach was corrected, and her liver and lungs replaced. Indeed the stem-cell technology employed was theoretical, prior to this project. It is eminently satisfactory that it succeeded at all, let alone as entirely as now appears to be the case. Her surviving kidney also developed a most serious infection; fortunately this responded well to the drug regimen adopted. But she suffered myocardial infarctions with rather trying regularity in the first month, which made protecting her neural integrity more troublesome, although of course the heart's primary functions were still being mechanically performed as recently as three weeks ago - there was no possibility that organic matter would suffice any earlier. We anticipated her death until at least fourteen days into the effort, and until two months ago the expectation was that she would have to remain in the Matrix on a permanent basis if she were to continue to live." The pride in the Ambassor's voice was immense - to be able to convey the magnitude of their gift to the human messiah. "It was wholly experimental, repairing Trinity. As of course you know."

"No," Neo said. He'd begun to shake uncontrollably. Christ, what she'd been through - that poor, beloved, broken body. "I didn't."

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I didn't. I didn't know any of that," he said. He began to vomit, the pod's fluid exiting his stomach in a sticky, bitter swirl.

"Oh," the Ambassador said, at a loss. This reaction was quite outside his programming. "How... unfortunate."

* * *

It transpired that the blanket was from Zion.

The machines had been stumped on that issue - how to provide for warmth and modesty, as he came round from the sedatives they'd used to cushion his release from the pod. Apparently they'd been stumped on how to clothe him, too. They had no means of producing fabric, so had requested that Zion supply clothing, and something to keep him warm while he recovered from the fields. For all their suspicion of the machines, this wasn't a request Zion was reluctant to meet.

The clothes were civilian - fancy, expensive looking, the kind of thing he'd seen senior officers and the Council wear to the most formal of occasions. They were whisper soft against his skin and fit perfectly; clearly bespoke. It made him uncomfortable, the implications of this luxurious new wardrobe. Zion had previously given him only filthy, ragged uniforms. They spoke of ordinariness, of being overlooked, of being just another soldier amongst dozens. These spoke of publicity and status; neither things he had ever enjoyed. All he wanted, now the war was over, was a quiet life with Trinity. Time alone together, some kind of interesting work. If she was able after all she'd been through, and if she wanted them too, he hoped for babies. Anonymity, time to enjoy one another, a future: the things they'd always been denied. It was all he'd wanted from life, ever since he'd met her. And threadbare uniforms symbolized that, whereas these clothes spoke of expectations. Of further, more ambiguous demands.

His eyes still hurt, but then, he supposed they would. They were new, too.

The first sight of Zion was harrowing. Gate 3 lay open, unguarded and unrepaired, and despite everything, despite knowing of the peace, it unsettled him to see the city so vulnerable. As they entered and he saw the damage done to the great dock - the pride of Zion - he swallowed hard. There was a gaping hole overhead, now criss-crossed with steel girders; presumably the initial stages in a major repair. It must, he knew, have been where the machine diggers first breached. And on the ground, the control tower was gone completely. Not even rubble or twisted metal remained, which spoke of an effective salvage operation, but also of how much must have required salvation. And the ports were almost all empty. Only one contained what appeared to be a skeletal Hammer; the rest, bare. He couldn't bring himself to look at the Neb's landing stage; couldn't bring himself to acknowledge that his home - the place he'd first been freed, fallen in love, worked, found his place in the world - was gone forever. Somehow, those last 48 hours before the end had seemed dreamlike, impossible, without any real proof or evidence. He'd been living in a temporal byway, it seemed, and this step back into reality meant each loss was still fresh. So many and so much had been lost. Every empty landing stage meant a crew he'd known and respected, and in some cases, people he'd cared for. Friends, allies, comrades; all gone. None of them had lived to see the freedom they'd given the years of their lives to win.

As he walked slightly shakily down the ramp, he saw Morpheus, standing with Ghost to greet him. He stumbled a little, and then he and Morpheus locked into a silent embrace. When he pulled back, he saw Ghost's agonized face, gazing anxiously into the vacated ship.

"She's not with me," he said at once. "But she's doing well. Don't worry."

Ghost let out a shuddering sigh and closed his eyes. "Thank God."

Morpheus tightened his grip on Neo's arm. "We've been... very anxious," he said softly. "Ghost and I."

"Yeah. But she's much better. She just needs time now."

"Why didn't you bring her home?" Ghost asked. Morpheus raised a hand.

"No. Ghost, not tonight. No questions. Neo needs some rest and some peace. We can talk tomorrow."

"Yes, of course. I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Neo said. "But - where is everyone?" He suddenly realized the key reason the dock felt so alien. It wasn't just the missing ships, the missing infrastructure; it was the stillness and the silence. Not a soul was about.

"A gathering." Ghost smiled at him, understanding his confusion. "The city was told there would be news of you announced tonight. Nobody would miss that - you've been all anyone's talked about, ever since the war ended. But we thought - Morpheus and I - that you might appreciate a night in peace. Nobody knows you're here yet, except the Council and the fleet survivors." He hesitated, and looked at Morpheus. "Though I'm afraid you will be expected to speak to the people tomorrow. Just briefly, just to reassure them. Ease the pressure on the Council, stop the rumors. But not tonight. Tonight, you can have some quiet."

It was a relief, when he reached the city proper, to see that it was mostly intact - unlike the dock, no new hell had been wreaked here. The sole damage was where some bridges had been broken. The actual apartments and sidewalks, the terrain of his home city, had all survived untouched.

When he reached his own apartment, he hugged his friends goodbye and closed the door behind them. He stood for a moment, looking at this little time capsule, this little sanctuary. Every inch was just as he remembered it, and saturated in memories. He reached for Trinity's robe, still on the chair where she'd left it when she'd hurriedly dressed to leave for that final mission. He remembered the reluctance, the barely-hidden resentment in her eyes when she'd answered the door that morning, knowing it would mean the end of their precious time alone together. He remembered wrapping his arms around her, feeling her body through the thin fabric, wishing he could offer reassurances that weren't lies. But he couldn't, any more than she could, so they'd both been silent, just clutching one another, motionless. They'd stood like that for several minutes, before turning away without a word to change, pack, ready themselves for the war once more. The moment she took that robe off, things had reverted to a military footing. She'd reverted.

He put the robe to his face and breathed her in; the civilian, Zion Trinity. The one that was wholly his. Then he curled up in their bed, surrounded by unlit candles, and slept.


	9. Oratory

The speech to Zion was hard.

Every man, woman and child crowded into the temple at noon to hear him, and when they quieted down to listen, the silence was so total it scared him. He'd never spoken to a crowd before, and after months jacked in, his voice still felt strange in use. But the importance of this - of convincing them, so he had the people behind him before he met with Zion's elite - drove him on, and his his understated, lucid explanations met with nothing but warmth and support.

He told of the war's end. Of the Logos crash, the defeat of Smith, and the truce promised to Zion in return. He explained that the machines would now allow humans to leave the Matrix, should they reject the programming; that the fleet would no longer risk their lives while freeing dissenters, and that no humans would die, in trying to escape. Then, he spoke of Trinity. How terribly injured she'd been, how committed the machines to saving her, and how frail she still remained. That until she was well, he had to stay with her in the Matrix, and while they'd return as soon as they could, he didn't know how long that might be. When he'd finished, thanked them for their patience in hearing him out, they fell to their knees as one. It terrified him, but for all his hatred of drama, of attention, their immediate acceptance was welcome. This absolute faith of the people was leverage, he knew. He had power, in this mass adoration. And if Trinity needed him to, he had every intention of exploiting it.

After the speeches he tried to retreat to the military quarter, to brief Morpheus and Ghost before the Council convened, but his path was blocked. The entrance to the temple and the entirety of the main Zion concourse was filled by a sea of people, all wanting to touch him, to make offerings, to ask his blessing. He was touched to discover that many had gifts for Trinity now, too - jewelry, clothing, household goods. He knew she'd not want them, any more than he ever had, but the thoughtfulness warmed him. He spent five hours there, speaking to everyone he could, shaking hands, touching children's heads, listening to fears, hopes, thank-yous, before having to excuse himself. He had the meeting with the Council to attend.

That meeting was rather more difficult.

"I must confess that I don't understand your reasoning. Why can't you just bring her home?"

"I already told you. She's still too sick."

"But we have excellent doctors here. An excellent hospital. She would have the best care possible - I assure you, she would be treated by the most talented and experienced people; it would be a matter of priority. Surely we can care for her here?"

"No. We can't."

Morpheus looked up then. "She always hated the Matrix, Neo. You know that better than anyone - she begrudged it every time she had to send you in. So why can't we care for her at home? Where she can recover in peace, surrounded by the people who love her? Where we can all support you - both of you? Don't think we underestimate the cost to you of these weeks. Of how much you must have had to endure, and endure alone. So why not allow us to help?"

"You can't. We don't have the expertise. Think of what they can do. What they did to all of us - that technology. We can't begin to match that. She needs them. Free her now, free her too soon, and she'll die."

There was a silence, and looking around, he saw it in their faces. They believed in his belief. Their suspicion was that he was being lied to himself; that he was confused, after spending long weeks jacked in to a fantasy - that the machines had somehow inculcated a form of Stockholm syndrome. He sighed. How could he even begin to convince them? And he had to. Her life depended on it.

"I was there when she died. Died, Morpheus. Her heart stopped. And nothing we could have done could have brought her back. But they did; they saved her. They've dedicated God knows what resources to doing it, to healing her, to saving her brain as well as her body. They still are." He looked around. "My eyes were burned out by Bane. I was blinded. They _regrew my eyes_, do you understand me? You're telling me anyone in Zion could have saved my sight? Without the eyes there to save? They couldn't, we all know it. And yet you think we could help her, the way they can?"

The silence continued, then lengthened. Eventually he decided to lay it on the line.

"The truth is I don't care. What anyone else thinks, or wants, or believes about this. I only care that you let me decide. None of you has to live with what I do if the decision is wrong. I need you to trust me. To trust me to make the choices for her, while she can't make them herself. Please."

"Why?" Ghost asked. "Why can't she? She's surely the person who should."

"Because she doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know any of us even exist. Zion, the war, none of it. Right now, she's a bluepill."

The silence was longer this time.

"What do you mean, she doesn't know?" Niobe said eventually. "Is she..." she looked at Morpheus, then Ghost, then summoned her courage. "Neo, are you saying she's mentally deficient?"

"It's not that. But just think about all she went through, all she suffered, ever since being freed. The danger, the friends she lost. Cypher. And then that last two days of the war." He sighed. "She had to have that lifted off of her, to heal. The physical impact of that kind of emotion could be the tipping point."

"Stress, you mean?"

"Yeah. They say she can't cope with the biochemical reactions yet. Grief, fear, anger. Her organs could fail again."

The faces turned to him.

"What?" Morpheus said.

"She was impaled, Morpheus. In several places. The Logos crashed, I told you. She had rebars all through her body. Just... she shouldn't have made it at all. And the cortisol and adrenaline and all the rest of it would send her blood pressure up, stress the immune system. I don't even know, ask the medics. All I know is, they don't know how she'll react when she can remember. To having died, to seeing so many people die, to everything we all lived through. Till she's a hell of a lot stronger physically, she needs to believe she had a very peaceful life, so her body can just get on with healing. She's a successful programmer, she's never had any setbacks, education always a slam-dunk success. She was married to you," he added to Ghost. "Didn't work out, but says you're still her best friend. Nice and placid, nothing but good memories. Boring, but good. You're doing ecology work on the Great Barrier Reef since the divorce, apparently."

Ghost stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah, I know. But it's actually very clever. She's never had a single bad memory associated with you, nor any very dramatic ones, so they've taken that and put it front and center. Mixed real with fake so she's less suspicious - the emotions have a truth to them that way. Apparently she was wise to something being amiss from when she was just a toddler, she was one of the most extreme redpills they'd ever dealt with, so they need to put as much real emotion in there as they can. Using how she feels about you was how." He turned back to the council. "They're doing everything they can for her - please, you have to trust me on that. I owe them her life."

"Are you sure that she's not been damaged?" Morpheus asked. "It worries me, that they think this necessary. Trinity always coped with the challenges life set her; arguably it was her defining characteristic."

"She's completely herself. They aren't worried about her mental health, just the physical. And," his face clouded as he looked around the room, "I won't let anyone interfere. It's too important."

"Nor will I," Ghost said quietly. Neo inclined his head. He'd always known he could count on Ghost; this early capitulation didn't surprise him.

"Neo," Morpheus said, and Neo looked back. "Neo, the essential fact is, the war is over. We owe that to you. If you need to do this, then naturally we will support you."

"And if we decide otherwise?" Lock said. He'd been silent until then; Morpheus speaking on behalf of them all, without consultation, seemed to have triggered him.

"Then I stop you," Neo said.

Lock snorted. "You could stop us inside, I admit. But you aren't Superman here. Here, we call the shots."

"No. But the people support me on this."

"The people," Lock said derisively, "would support you if you read out the goddamn telephone directory. What, you're threatening revolution now?"

"I hope it won't come to that, Commander. Politics isn't my interest."

The room went very still.

"What exactly are you saying?" Lock said, voice incredulous. "You've chosen, as the single most powerful force we have in freeing minds, to lock yourself up for months on end goddamn _babysitting_ another soldier, and now you're telling us we have no rights? What about the people still hooked up to that system, the clock ticking away? You know some won't be young enough to free by the time we get out there, get started? And you're telling us you don't give a crap about that, that you just want us to let you waste days, weeks, _months_, because you trust machines more than you do our own doctors?"

Neo shrugged, more tired than hostile. "I'm saying I'll do whatever I have to - whatever it takes. How far I need to go is up to you. She's died for Zion, you know. Twice. She got me to the machine city, and she got these injuries doing it. Every damn person in this room owes their life to her. Might be nice if you remembered that."

"Nobody is forgetting what Trinity did, Neo," Hamman said, his tone placatory. "The city remains nothing but grateful."

"Really? Because I've heard talk of parades and presentations and God knows what else. And the only name mentioned is mine."

"People have prayed for your return for a century or more. Many, many people died in helping you reach your destiny. Trinity is undoubtedly a brave soldier; a credit to this city, and we honor that, as we do all our fallen, all our veterans. But she is not the One. It is you that saved our people. We don't forget those who helped you, but nor can we overlook who you are."

"Great. Thanks. Gratitude much appreciated. But I don't want the ceremonies you guys have planned, or a statue, or that fancy new apartment, or the salary. None of that means a damn thing to me. This does. It's the only thing I've ever asked of Zion. Ever will, either. Is it really too much?"

* * *

"I never had you down as an orator," Ghost said.

"Me neither."

"Well, you succeeded. Nobody will go against your wishes now."

"Yeah, well." Neo paused, seemingly trying to find words. "Look, Ghost, I knew I could rely on you. I knew you'd help her. But I want to thank you, anyway."

Ghost merely smiled. "How is she?" he said. "I mean, in herself?"

Neo shook his head. "I only see her at work, in passing. I was warned to keep my distance for a while. So I don't know for sure. Probably not great, she has to know something's up."

"Keep your distance?" Ghost said, confused. "Why? I thought she didn't know you?"

"Connection's too strong, apparently. They're afraid she'd overcome the programming. Remember too soon. She would too, they're right. We've been alone a total of six times in the past few weeks, and the last time, we ended up holding hands."

"Ah."

"Yeah. She was comforting me. I was upset about her, though she didn't know it - how ironic is that? So I'm going to have to make more of an effort, when I get back. To stay away." He sighed. "It's just hard."

"It must be. I'm sorry."

"She's made friends with the only potential in the building, though. So at least she has someone to talk to."

"Well, that's something."

"Yeah. But she's getting some pretty bad headaches. Real bastards."

"She always did, if jacked in too long."

Neo nodded, and rubbed his eyes for the umpteenth time. "And she's been in for months, now."

"Your eyes okay?" Ghost asked, concerned.

"Still sore. I guess that's to be expected."

Ghost hesitated. "What you said in there - about how we couldn't have saved her. Just how badly hurt was she?"

Neo's eyes shadowed. "You don't want to know."

"But..."

"Ghost, I threw up when I found out. You don't, trust me. All that matters now is that she's getting better."

Ghost looked at him; decided not to push the point. "How old's the redpill?" he said instead, reaching for safer subjects. "What's her name?"

"His. And it's Zach. He's 26."

"Lucky."

"Just inside the window, absolutely. Lucky... well. That's more debatable."

"You don't think so?"

"Sometimes I feel like just leaving him might be kinder." He sighed, before putting his face in his hands and yawning. "Christ, I'm tired."

"Kinder? I don't follow."

"He's fallen for her. Really fallen for her, poor bastard. I think he's probably as in love with her as I was at that stage. And it's not like he'll be able to escape us when we get back, is it? _Statues_." He shook his head, bemused.

"Well, she's very different in the real world. He may find the appeal wanes once he's back here; gets to know her properly."

But Neo shook his head. "No. He's fallen for her, not the RSI. He understands her. Really does - just sat there, listing some of the stuff I love about her myself. So it's not like it'll wear off. In fact it'll probably get worse." Neo grimaced. "Poor guy's just... screwed. There but for the grace of God, I guess."

"Yes. You're both very lucky, to have found what you have together."

"Yeah." He looked up at Ghost then, genuine affection in his eyes. "I even get along with the in-laws. How many people can say that?"

"That works both ways," Ghost said. "You know, a lot of men wouldn't like her and me being close. You've always been wholly supportive. I'm grateful, Neo. I hope you know that."

"You give her so much. How could I be anything but happy? And I was thinking. She's lonely, and she's scared, and you're the only one she remembers. Even if the memories are wrong, the friendship's real enough. How about when that ship's ready, you pay a visit? Might give her a boost."

"You really think that's a good idea?"

Neo stretched. He still ached. "Don't see why not, as long as you're careful what you say. They gave her a past with you. If you were a problem, they'd not have been able to do that, would they? It's only extreme emotion they have to avoid. And seeing you could be just what she needs." He yawned. "I'm sorry to bail. But I have to get some more sleep. I feel half-dead."

"Well, you'd be the expert," Ghost said gently. "You, and Trin."

"What?"

"On being half-dead. There can't be many who can claim that. You both can, now."

Neo smiled suddenly. "You know the very first thing she said to me? That night, on the roof, afterwards?"

"No. Though believe me, many people have asked. Go on?"

"She said, _I guess this makes us even_."

Ghost laughed. "You know, I'd love to say that surprised me, but... well."

"I know," said Neo, with evident satisfaction. "Me neither."


	10. Disappear

He'd bought her a plant, promising to water it for her _- it'll give me an excuse to visit_ - and was now leaning on the doorframe, looking round her new office a little sadly. He looked, she thought, like she felt. They'd not be sharing in future, and while she was sure they'd stay friendly, it wouldn't be the same. It was only now, looking at him, that she realized how badly she'd miss it.

She was used working in close quarters with other people. She and Ghost had shared an office from the day she'd graduated Harvard, and she'd benefited hugely from his thoughtful, patient help. She'd never had her own office since - even though she had, officially, been allocated one elsewhere, she and Ghost had only ever used it for teaching or interviewing. They'd simply worked better side-by-side; brainstorming, soothing frustrations, conferring. Her much greater ability prevented that with Zach, but she'd enjoyed the teaching aspect as well as the company. That had been familiar, too. She'd always been a lieutenant, back in the days when Ghost ran his tight little ships. She'd supported many PhD students through their theses, smoothed many a programming tangle, and she'd enjoyed the sense of being part of a chain, each link building on the work of those who'd gone before. She didn't like the idea of running solo. And though it was good, of course, that she was officially regarded as unimpaired, and that she'd be given more interesting work, she was going to find the adjustment hard. And suddenly, as she looked, she realized something else.

He was nice-looking.

Very much so. Brown hair, pale skin, hazel eyes flecked with green. Slim, tall, slightly nervous-looking. Classic programmer, really. But quite undeniably cute. And smart, and fun, and loyal. Even if he wasn't Tom.

She shook herself mentally. Had she seriously just spent a month mooning wistfully over the unattainable office Adonis, along with half the admin team? Jesus Christ. What the hell had gotten into her? In the place ten minutes, and she'd zeroed straight in on a guy she absolutely could not have. A guy so desperately in love with his girlfriend, her losing her mind hadn't changed his. A shrink would have a goddamn field day, if she ever trusted one enough to tell them about it. So much for naturally mature. In fact, from where she stood, it looked a damn sight more like a severe case of arrested development.

What the hell. If she really did want to redux the college years - years she'd spent studying her ass off, in an unhealthily symbiotic relationship with a guy she promptly married - well, there were worse people to do it with than Zach. Fun, smart, kind and cute was a pretty good deal, especially when all you wanted was a little simple fun. And Tom wouldn't have been simple. That would have been serious, given their personalities, and histories, and the strength of the connection. If all she wanted was a casual, rejuvenatory affair, then Zach was actually a damn sight more suitable.

He looked up and saw her watching him, and smiled, a little sadly. "I'm going to miss you," he said.

"You too. I was just thinking that."

"You want to go get a beer, when we finish up here? Final fling?"

"I have a better idea," she said, and smiled into his eyes. "Why don't you come over to my place for something to eat, instead?"

* * *

"The Matrix?"

"Yes."

He laughed, a little uncomfortably. "I never had you down for a conspiracy theorist."

"You think it's all bullshit too?"

"Too?" he said. His face was wary.

"Ghost always thought so. He went through it all once; why it was a strategic hoax. He figured it was viral marketing gone feral."

Zach looked at her. "Okay. Level with me."

"What do you mean?"

"That classic Kenz thing doesn't cut it. Not this time. I need more than that on this one."

"I don't understand," she said.

"You did the usual. Throw something out there, then wanna see my hand, while you keep yours hidden. And while I admire your strategic skills - hell, it's always impressed me, how you can do that - it's not happening here. Either you trust me, or you don't."

"I trust you," she said at once. "Would I have raised it if I didn't?"

"But what you're trusting me to do is open up. When you don't, not ever. And while that's cool on, you know, college antics, and emotions, and views on the sandwich fillers in the cafe, on this shit? No. You have to show me yours, if you want to see mine."

She raised an eyebrow. "You not outgrown that yet?" she said dryly.

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling, hazel eyes sparkling in sudden amusement. "Oh, now _there's_ an offer."

"Hmm." She looked at him, and was suddenly very aware of how close he was. How_ tall_ he was. She'd somehow never twigged before - she'd been too wrapped up in Tom. She made a sudden decision. "Okay then. I'll show you my files."

"Files?" He looked at her. "Kenz, wait. You have _files_?"

She sighed. "Divorced, obsessive; five years from now I'll be spending all my time IMing Bob from Arkansas. Convinced that the world's run by giant... lizards. Or robot elves. Trust me, I know the script."

He looked at her for a long beat, and then he said softly, "No, you don't understand. You see, I have files, too."

An isolation she'd not even realized she felt suddenly evaporated, leaving her giddy._ Yes._ Thank God. Finally, someone she liked - respected - agreed with her on this. "You do?" she said.

"Yeah. But some of the data..." he grimaced. "Well, it used to belong to a guy who's not around anymore."

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated, and his fingers began to beat an involuntary tattoo on the edge of the couch. "This Matrix shit, Kenz. It's dangerous. And while I'm not about to get protective on your ass - you'd only kick mine - I do want to check that you understand that. It's important that you do."

"Not around," she said, her voice coolly even. There was no sign of the fact that she was suddenly acutely aware of her own blood, throbbing out a beat in her ears. "You said he wasn't around. Which means - what?"

Zach's face was shadowed by something. Fear, hurt, confusion. It was impossible to tell. "Few months back, he called me. Asked me to head over to his place, said he had something big to tell me. Someone he wanted me to meet. Said it was about the Matrix. And I was about to go, but my Mom called, said Dad had had a heart attack. I had to get to the hospital and then of course they won't let you use cells - I couldn't even get ahold of Rob, to tell him. Dad was okay - indigestion, can you believe that? - so I went round the next day and Rob was just - gone. No sign at all. Apartment just as he'd left it. Roommate shit-scared. Police found no trace, and still haven't. And this was almost a year back, now."

"So what do you think happened?"

"One of three options. Found that Morpheus guy, and his gang, and joined them. Or found them... and they killed him." He was silent for a moment, chewing his lip.

"And the third?"

He looked at her. "Killed himself. He was obsessed, you know. Didn't sleep, hardly bothered with work, never saw anyone except me anymore, and we only talked about this when he did. Broke up with his girlfriend - and okay, she was actually lame, but he'd really liked her for a while there. Just blanked her suddenly, overnight. This Matrix thing - it's like it's addictive. Like some kind of insane game. And Rob isn't the first guy I know who vanished like that, either. He's the second, and Jim was the same - they were both just obsessed."

She was quiet for a moment, and then she looked at him. "Are you?" she said.

"Oh, no," he said at once. "No, you don't. I showed and told. Now you."

She looked down at her hands, then said in a rush, "I am. Completely, and I have to know. Something's wrong, Zach. It's seriously fucked up, and I have to know what. I think this Morpheus guy has answers, or can show me someone who does, and I just... I need to know. I can't explain it, I don't really understand it myself, I just... I know. That the Matrix is what this is about. And it's not some stupid game. It's important. Crucial, even. So if you think that's crazy or just... then, I understand. But," she sighed, held her hands up. "I just wanted to ask."

He looked at her for a moment, his eyes soft. Sympathetic. Then he slowly, silently pulled a disk out of his jacket pocket, and held it out towards her. "Here you go. My files," he said quietly.

She stared at it, and then at him. "You carry them around with you?"

"Yeah." He smiled, a little awkward. "Guess I'm paranoid of having them stolen. They're... too important to risk."

They looked at one another, and a beat passed. Then he leaned across the table, and kissed her, gently and surprisingly tenderly at first, and then it deepened. It felt more natural than she'd somehow expected - and better than kissing Ghost ever had, too.

When they pulled back, he stroked her hair. "God, Kenz," he said. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Yes," she said seriously. "Relationships. Ask my ex-husband."

"So it'll just be a sex thing, then?" he said, and grinned.

"I don't recall offering you that alternative."

"Hey, I was kidding." He smiled again, affectionate, sincere. "It's okay. I know you're out of my league, I told Tom as much weeks back. C'mon, let's get back to it. Here." He reached for his laptop and slipped in the disk, but she reached over, and put her hand on his, stopping him. The mention of Tom had galvanized her - what had she promised herself? To loosen up, take things more casually, stop fixating on someone she could never have? Well, this was her opportunity. What was she afraid of?

Zach looked up, surprised. "You don't wanna do this?" he said, and glanced back down at the laptop, before meeting her eyes. Then he swallowed hard at the expression in them.

"Not right now," she said, her tone even, her eyes fixed on his. "No."

He shivered slightly, before moving in at the exact same second she did, the laptop lying, abandoned, between them.


	11. Lost

"Hey!"

Neo turned. "Hey Zach."

"How was your trip?"

"Oh, you know."

He'd avoided spending time with Zach the past couple of weeks. He hadn't wanted to hear about Trinity's manifold perfections; he was missing her quite badly enough as it was. But leaving Zion had been a wrench, and returning to the Matrix amplified that. He was lonely, he couldn't be with the one person he really needed, and this guy was, at least, a potential. It was as good as it got around here.

"You want to go for a beer?" he said. "I could do with the company."

But Zach shook his head, a strange, secretive expression on his face. One that was too damn happy for comfort. "Can't tonight. I have plans."

"Plans?" Neo repeated, and then willed the word back that same second. But it was too late.

"Yeah." Zach was positively glowing. "I'm taking Kenz out to dinner. Figured I'd take her somewhere nice. You know, the full cliche."

Neo felt the world fall away from him. "Mackenzie," he said stupidly, unable to make it connect_. _"You're... taking Mackenzie out to dinner?"

"Yeah." Zach smiled then, a huge, joyous, ear-to-ear grin. "We got together, while you were away."

* * *

She'd always been so serenely confident in his love. Her trust in him was absolute, and her faith in his fidelity was part of that. She'd comforted him over Persephone, not the other way around - he'd been sick with guilt, knowing he'd hurt her, and only her calm reassurance had made it okay again. And she'd never shown the slightest jealousy otherwise, not on any other occasion.

But he had.

He'd hated it when they ran into her old lovers in Zion, hated reminders that she'd once had a sex life that didn't exclusively mean him. The truth was that he'd always doubted deserving her at all; always wrestled with a haunting anxiety that, one day, he'd have to face a reckoning for the absolute joy she gave him. That, one day, the fates would exact payment in full. Those terrible minutes in the machine city he'd thought it was finally upon him, but then she'd been returned to life, essentially unharmed. The bullet had been dodged. And now another levy had been set.

He knew that the pain was nothing, compared to the pain of her death. That this could have been - _had_ been - a lot worse. But watching Zach caressing the small of her back as they walked away from the office one evening, her animated face towards him as she explained something - off to spend the weekend together, doing things he couldn't bear to imagine, but couldn't stop imagining, either - he also knew that the fact didn't help him cope with this. Nothing could. It was like enduring amputation without pain relief instead of disembowelment. One was far worse, but the other was agony, just the same.

It wasn't real, life in the Matrix. That was the Zionist faith. Nothing was real, so none of it mattered, not unless you died there. All else could be walked away from.

That faith, he was discovering, was bullshit.

Seeing them on the days they came into work together was the worst. He would know then, beyond any doubt. And she was indisputably fond of the guy. At this stage, that was all it was - she didn't look at him as she used to Neo, she didn't even touch him much - she accepted it when he touched her, but for the most part, she didn't treat him any differently from before. She'd never treated Neo like that. The moment they were together, she'd put him at the absolute center of her world - had always openly loved him, just as he had her. Nobody could ever have speculated about the strength of their feelings, or the seriousness of what they shared. But hugging those past memories to himself, in the face of present heartbreak, only took him so far. And it wasn't anything like far enough.

He was, increasingly, terrified that this surreal situation might grow into something more concrete. He couldn't even tell if this fear was rational and well-founded, or just rampant paranoia. His grip on reality was steadily loosening over the weeks jacked in; he was lost, quite unable to determine which way was up. All he knew was that the fear swelled as he saw her smile, sometimes even laugh, when she and Zach talked. And they talked a lot - intently, intensely, seemingly fascinated. He'd watched her talk this way with Ghost, and enjoyed the sight. They were hugely attuned intellectually, and he'd always appreciated how much strength they both drew from that bond; had never been remotely threatened by it. With Zach, who couldn't begin to match her intelligence, the horror was that it must be emotional in basis. That was harder to quantify - and much, much harder to handle.

Once, the very worst day of all, Zach had said something to her as they left for the day, something Neo hadn't caught. She'd reached over and touched his face with real gentleness, before kissing him tenderly, if swiftly, quite of her own volition. The elevator doors had closed on them that second, leaving Neo standing there, frozen with shock. The memory would hit him at random moments; at work, on the El, at home when he lay sleepless at night. It always, and instantly, closed his throat up with threatened tears. More than once, if he had the privacy, they'd actually fallen. It had been the first time he'd had to consider whether she might come to want Zach and not him, even when freed. Zach could offer her a future that was simple, happy, private - the things she'd always wanted in life. And the only one of the triad Neo could compete with was the second.

It made matters infinitely worse that she suddenly seemed to have lost all interest in him. She was polite, friendly, professional. But the particular, personal interest she'd always shown - the quiet preference for spending time with him - had vanished. He had no idea why, and no way of coping. In all the time he'd known her, she'd prioritized him over all else. Preferred him and his company to anyone else. And that had carried over, in a subtle way, even when she started at Metacortex, even not knowing who he was. She'd made excuses to talk to him, quietly invited him to social events, been warm, albeit guarded. He'd just taken it for granted as the way the universe was supposed to be. But now days were succeeding empty days, days in which he didn't see her at all. And even when he did, she was never alone.

He dreamed about her more and more. Dreams aboard the Neb, working side-by-side. Talking about anything and everything. Watching her work on some engineering project, overcome with admiration. Making love in Zion, or the swift, tender exchanges on the ship, when they were benefiting from the sleep shifts Morpheus always tried to overlap for them - _you rest far better together. You always look more refreshed. _It was true, he'd always slept badly without her. But now, he had to. He had to do without her all the time.

The war had been easier.

* * *

"Can I join you?" he said.

He didn't know what came over him. He just saw her, sat there alone in the cafe, and couldn't bear it anymore. Needed to see her close to, to hear her voice, to see her notice he was still alive, no matter how much it hurt. And if he didn't initiate it, he knew it wouldn't happen.

She looked up. "Hey, Tom," she said. "Sure."

He sat down opposite her, and tried to think of something to say. "So, you and Zach," was all that came out. She didn't reply; just looked at her cup, frowning slightly. He wasn't surprised, it was an inane comment. Even if it was all he thought of, whenever he saw her. "He's seriously happy," he went on. "Talks about you all the time."

"Really?" She sounded slightly thrown. "Well. He's a sweet guy."

"Yeah." It was true, after all.

"It's very different." She was stirring her coffee in methodical circles now, even though it was black and unsweetened, and she hated it to cool too much.

"Different?" he said.

"From what I'm used to."

"How do you mean?"

"Marriage, I guess. Wasn't for me."

"You mean Ghost wasn't for you?"

She was thoughtful a moment. "I don't know, if I'm honest. We always got along amazingly. Still do. We had problems, sure..." her eyes became guarded and she looked away, evasive. He found himself wondering what sort of problems they'd programmed for her and Ghost, to explain it all. It was very evident that she had no intention of telling him - that as far as she was concerned, it was much too private to share with some guy she hardly knew. She drank some of her coffee before she spoke again. "There were other factors too, and maybe in the end they were what did for us. In our circles - research circles - he's kind of famous, crazy as that sounds. It got wearing, being known for who you were married to. Always having to watch what you said, and to whom. We never really had any privacy, because there were a bunch of crises all the time, and he was always being waylaid." She shrugged, a little apologetic. "It's nice to be anonymous, be a little selfish. Have things be uncomplicated. I didn't do irresponsible at the right age, perhaps."

"So the serious comes later?" he asked.

"As in, relationships?" He nodded, and she shook her head at once. "No. I don't ever see myself being involved like that again. I'm not cut out for it, I didn't like the person I'd have become, given time. Love only takes you so far."

He looked at her and wondered how he could keep breathing, hearing Trinity say this, anything like this, to him. She'd always hated the publicity his role attracted, and now it was exponentially worse. Maybe, at some level, she knew it. Maybe, at some level, Trinity was making good choices while she was free of the past, free of guilt, free of anything but her own gut instinct. Making choices on what she really needed for herself, not what her love for him demanded of her. And maybe what she truly needed wasn't Neo, or his fame, or the dark, brutal wartime memories they shared, but something much simpler, much more sunlit. Maybe Trinity just couldn't take being a living symbol anymore, and leaving him was the only escape. He couldn't blame her. He'd dearly like one himself. And unlike him, she had a choice in the matter.

"Tom?"

He looked up, startled, into her eyes - eyes filled with concern. "Huh?"

"You okay?" she said, very gently. "You were miles away."

"I'm sorry. And yeah, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine. If you don't mind my saying."

"I'm just tired. Not been sleeping that well lately."

She was silent for a moment, and then she said, "You were thinking about her, weren't you?"

He looked up again, into those depthless eyes. God, he missed her. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. I was."

"How is she?"

He didn't move a muscle, just carried on looking into her eyes. "Beautiful," he said eventually. "But very lost."


	12. Missing

_Once, after an especially spectacular - and very triangular - romantic implosion within the team, she'd quietly created a flow-chart on the whole mess to cheer Ghost up. He'd shaken his head and called her a cynic. She'd asked, which aspect of her analysis was flawed? He'd kissed her swiftly and said, none of it. As you well know. Now get your ass back to work before I fire you; I don't want an unemployed spouse. We do have a home loan, you know. She'd looked at him, eyebrows raised. Home loan? Least of your problems. Can you imagine me as a housewife? Ghost had been silent for a moment, and then said, Christ. That's a terrifying mental image. Never, ever allude to it again._

_Sometimes, she missed him so terribly it winded her._

* * *

"Who's on the ship?"

Ghost was thrown. Neo hadn't seemed as happy to see him as he'd expected - had seemed defensive, in fact. And this abrupt enquiry was almost his first remark - he'd barely said hello. "Niobe and Morpheus," he said. "Link's operating for us. Why?"

"That everyone? Nobody else at all?"

"Everyone, yes. Why, Neo?"

"No Sparks?"

"No, Sparks said hell would freeze over before he set foot on a ship again."

Neo didn't smile; merely nodded. "Okay."

"Neo? What's going on?"

Neo didn't speak - couldn't speak, it looked like. Ghost suddenly knew something was very wrong. He swallowed. "Trinity. Is she..."

"She's fine," Neo said at once. "Don't worry."

"Then - what's the matter?"

There was a long silence. Then Neo sighed. "She's dating someone," he said.

It was so anti-climactic, Ghost actually laughed. "What? No. She can't be."

"She is. And we have to keep it quiet, for her sake. This would be big in Zion, you know that."

"No," Ghost said. He shook his head. "You've misunderstood something. It's not possible."

"It's Zach - he told me himself. And I've seen them together. There's no misunderstanding."

Ghost opened his mouth and closed it again, before pulling himself together. "Then she has to get her memories back. And I mean, _now_."

"No," Neo said. "No way."

"But what's this going to do to her? There's no choice, Neo."

"It's too big a risk. We just have to deal with it."

"Neo, think about it. Please. Think about what this'll do to her. How she's going to feel -"

But Neo cut him off. "They said they'd do it when it was safe. If they haven't, then it isn't. Period. We can manage things for her, however it goes. Whatever she wants, we can handle it so she's safe. But not if this leaks. The repercussions could be dangerous, given," his jaw tightened, "some of the idiots in Zion, so until she knows what she wants, this has to stay quiet."

"What she'll want," Ghost said, staring at him incredulously, "is for it never to have happened at all. You _know_ that." But Neo was silent. Ghost began to feel a mounting horror. "Neo?" he said.

"All I know is that we have to look after her while she can't herself. And that means not a word of this reaches anyone in Zion, and she's left in ignorance of who she is until the machines say different."

"But you know she loves you," Ghost said. His throat was suddenly very dry. He swallowed. "You have to know that. You must do."

"I know she did," Neo said, and then he looked at Ghost, his eyes sadder than Ghost had ever seen them. "And she's been through hell because of it. Look, I can't do this. Not with anyone. Just... promise me you'll talk to the crew. Ensure their discretion."

"Sure. Whatever you want. But when she remembers, all she's going to want is _you._ You have to believe me - you've just been jacked in way the hell too long. I've known her all her adult life, she's the best friend I ever had, and I'm telling you - every breath she took was for you, ever since you came. As soon as she remembers, things can get back to normal. This is crazy, it isn't Trin doing this. It's just the Matrix, it doesn't mean anything."

Neo was silent for a moment. Then he said, his voice quiet, "I'm coming back to Zion next week."

Ghost stared at him, appalled. "Neo, please. Don't give up on her. You can't do that to her."

"I'm not giving up on her," he said at once, irritated. "But I hardly see her, and you said it yourself. When she gets her memory back, this'll fuck her up. Whatever she wants to happen at that point, she's going to feel bad. Knowing I was there to watch all this won't help her any."

"But..." Ghost's voice trailed away. He had no idea what to say. It was undeniable; Neo had a point. He swallowed. "Just - tell me you'll still want her. Please. Because I don't know what to tell her, if you don't."

Neo stared at him as if he'd suddenly grown two heads. "Of course I still want her," he said. "And I'll come back for her, no matter what. If she wants him, or just to be alone, then I'll deal with it. Make sure Zion accepts it, too. And if she still wants _us_ - God." He was silent for a few minutes. Then he said, sounding completely defeated, "But I can't stay here. I have to leave. She gets nothing from it, it's hell for me, and it's just going to cost her later."

"I can't believe it's come to this," Ghost said. "I just... I can't take it in."

"Yeah, well. You and me both."

* * *

"I feel nervous," Ghost said. He shook his head in disbelief. "Can you believe that?"

Neo smiled slightly, a little sad. "I was when she first started here. Just been too damn long since I'd seen her." He motioned to his left. "It's this way."

Ghost looked round as they passed door after featureless door. He could hardly believe it - Zion's revered saviors, spending their days in this place. "God," he said.

"Yeah. Corporate hell." Neo stopped outside a door with _A. C. Mackenzie, Senior Programmer_ on, and knocked before he opened it. "Mackenzie?"

"Hey Tom." Her back was turned. "Can I do something for you?" She made no move to face him; merely continued scribbling on some paper, counting something under her breath.

"You have a visitor," he said.

She turned round, and suddenly went very still. "Ghost," she said, and then she smiled. A genuine, full-face smile, of the kind Neo hadn't seen from her since the end of the war.

She moved round the desk and took Ghost's hands in hers. "It's so good to see you."

"You too."

"Why didn't you tell me you were coming? How long are you in town?"

"I'll leave you to it," Neo said, and hesitated.

Trinity made no reply; just put her arms round Ghost and hugged him close. "God, I've missed you. Tell me everything - how's it been? Have you any plans for dinner?"

Neo left.

* * *

"I know. About the accident, I mean."

She looked up at him, away from her plate. "Mom told you," she said, and sighed impatiently. "I told her not to."

"Please don't blame your mother."

She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. "You married the wrong Mackenzie. _No other guy will ever understand you_. And that's on a good day. On a bad one, the word is _tolerate_. You know she's still holding out for a reconciliation?"

"She'll be waiting a long time," he said.

She smiled into his eyes at that. "You sound better. With it, I mean."

"You'd be happier with someone else."

She shook her head at once. "No. If I couldn't make it work with you, I couldn't with anyone. Nobody'll ever have so much in common. I told you before: I'm just not cut out for serious relationships."

"You did," he agreed, a little sadly, recalling how many times a younger, real world Trinity had said the same thing. Before Neo came and turned her life upside down; filled it with untold joy. Then he shook himself mentally - he was wasting precious minutes. "But anyway. How are you?"

"Better. Much better." She grimaced. "Though my memory still plays tricks on me."

"Tricks?"

"Yeah. Sometimes I have gaps. Other things don't seem real to me, even when they happened. Sometimes dreams seem more so. Apparently it's normal. At least nothing work-related's been affected; I'm functional there, thank God." She smiled, a little apologetically. "You know me and work."

"You always worked too hard."

"I love work," she said.

"I know. But it's not human."

"No. It's reliable."

"Oh, I'm quite reliable."

"Yes," she agreed. "But I wasn't."

"That's not true," he said at once. "Never apologize for honesty. Anyone who doesn't recognize it as a compliment is a fool. And undeserving of that honesty."

She was silent for a moment, and then she said softly, "I've missed you so much. I hope you know that."

"I do." He smiled at her. "You've always been my best friend. Nothing could change that."

"Good." She took a sip of wine. "So. How's Australia?"

"Hot."

"Barrier Reef?"

"Large."

"Met anyone interesting?"

"Supermodel. Six foot tall. Blonde."

"An upgrade? Glad to hear it."

"And before you ask: no, none of them program as well as you."

"Oh, now that _would_ get to me."

"Don't I know it." He smiled. "How about you? Anyone interesting at work?"

She made a face. "Most are pretty useless. To be blunt."

He raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"No, I know. I'm being unfair. They're competent. It just... it isn't the same."

"Well, that's the corporate world for you."

"Don't remind me."

"You sound like you miss it."

"Of course I miss it." She sighed. "I love working with you. You know that. One day I hope we can get back to it. Just... don't marry someone who codes better than me, next time."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"And make sure she's a better wife, too."

"Worse programmer, better wife. Any other orders, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah," she said. "She needs to like me. So she doesn't mind us being friends."

He looked at her and smiled. "That works both ways."

"Not really." She looked up as their entrees arrived. "I told you. I'm strictly casual in future."

"Hmm." He fiddled with his knife, then cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I agree with your analysis of your co-workers, you know. Tom seems great."

"Oh, now he's very capable. Easily the best they have. Probably better than me, if I'm honest. I console myself with the fact he's got a few years on me, too."

"I was talking personally, not professionally. I liked him. And he spoke very highly of you."

"Did he." Her tone was distant. She looked away, out of the window.

"Very much so. Seem to have made quite an impact on him."

She shrugged. "Well, he's lonely. His girlfriend's very sick, and he's crazy about her. Poor guy - I have no idea what's wrong, but she sounds like she's had some kind of psychotic breakdown. Or suffered serious brain damage. Or has a horrific degenerative disease. Something equally cheerful."

Ghost was staring at her. "What?"

"Yeah. Very sad. And he never seems to talk to anyone. He must be so unhappy, it's kind of heartbreaking. I guess he has Zach, at least."

Ghost had no idea how to respond. So instead he said, "Zach?"

"Another co-worker," she said, evasive. Then she grimaced. "I'm so used to you knowing everything. I miss that."

"I know," he said. "There isn't a day that passes when I don't want to tell you something. Ask your opinion. I miss you, too."

She looked at him, a little sadly. "This won't be forever, will it?"

"No," he said. "No, it won't be forever."

"Good. Because life without you, Ghost. It's not a lot of fun."


	13. Damage

"Stay." She made no move to release him from the hug, but reached over and shut the door again, one-handed.

"Hmm?"

"Don't go to your hotel. Stay."

"Hey," he said, perturbed. "What is it?"

She bit her lip. "Do you ever wonder if we made a mistake?"

"About what?"

"Getting divorced."

"What?" He froze. "No. Don't say that."

She pulled back then, out of his embrace, and he was horrified to see tears in her eyes. "But I miss you. I miss you so much. Nobody ever understood me like you do."

"It's just adjustment," he said helplessly. He didn't know what to do - Trinity never cried. She always held it together for everyone else. And she'd never, ever shown the least romantic interest in him; even before Neo, even when he still held out some hope that she might.

"Everything's wrong - I don't know what's going on. I think I'm going crazy." She looked at him, her face haunted. "I think there's been some serious damage. I mean, from the accident. They swear there hasn't been. I got them to scan me again last week, and show me the scans - all normal. But I don't_ feel_ normal, I feel like everything's wrong, the world is wrong, and I can't help thinking that maybe it was you that made it all okay. Maybe you were what made it all click. Because you've been there since I was nineteen, and now you aren't, and suddenly it's all just such a fucking mess. Or maybe it's just _me_ that's a mess - I don't know anymore."

"You could never be a mess." He pulled her to him and was appalled to find that she was shivering. He wanted to call Neo. If anyone could ground her, make her happy - even as a bluepill, stuck here in the Matrix - Neo could. It was one of the reasons Ghost had accepted him, right from the start. No. It _was_ the reason. And a world in which Neo couldn't make everything right for her, just by being there, was one Ghost simply couldn't compute.

"Ghost, what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. There's nothing wrong with you."

"Then why do I feel this way?"

"It's not for me to say."

"But I'm _asking_. Please. Please, help me."

He sighed. "How honest do you want me to be?"

"Completely. Please. You always were - I miss that so much."

"Then I think part of the problem is how isolated you are - I just don't think you should be alone. I'm not right for you, but someone else is."

She pushed him away as abruptly as if she'd been burned. "Your solution is a _man_?" She wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head fiercely. "Now I know I'm going crazy. You - you'd never say something like that to me."

"Not just any man," he said. "I'm talking about Tom."

She lifted her head to stare at him.

"I know you care for him. It's obvious." He closed his eyes. All that mattered - all that had ever mattered - was her. He'd made his peace with it a long time ago. "I've seen the way you look at him. And the way he looks at you. It's so, so obvious."

"Ghost, please." She shook her head. "Don't do this. He loves his girlfriend."

"He has feelings for you. You should hear how he talks about you."

"You should hear how he talks about _her_."

"I'm telling you," he said, "that he's fallen for you. Fallen hard. I'm telling you I think he's a nice guy, and suited to you. And I'm telling you you should go for it."

"See? This is all wrong." She began to cry in good earnest then. "You're telling me to go for something with a guy who might as well be married, married to a woman who is really sick, and who he loves, and you don't even_ know_ him. This is insane. This is not you. This is not us. This is not my life at all."

He handed her some kleenex. "Here. Stop goddamn crying. _That_ isn't you. I've never seen you cry, not since the day we met." He waited as she blew her nose, stifled the sobs, tried to pull it together. "You know I just want you to be happy. That's all I ever wanted."

"Then take me back," she said desperately. "Please, let's just try again. It was stupid, I was stupid, I don't even know what I was thinking."

"We can't do that. You know we can't."

"Ghost, please. Can we just try?" She tried to put her arms around him, her lips to his, but he gently caught her wrists and pushed her away, shaking his head.

"No. This isn't what you want."

"But I'm a mess," she said desperately. "I'm a mess without you."

"I agree things aren't right. We can work on that. I'll help you - I love you. But this isn't the answer."

She was quiet. Then she looked at him, her eyes so hopeless he could hardly bear it. "Have you met someone else, Ghost?"

He shook his head at once. "No. There's nobody for me that way. Maybe ever."

"Then..."

"I told you. It'd never work, and you'd be no happier."

"But I _was_ happy."

He sighed. "Your memory's playing tricks on you. There's no point arguing about that. Let's focus on what matters. You've fallen for him, I know you have. So why not trust that? You always had good instincts."

"He's dating someone else..."

"It won't last, even if he is."

"...and so am I."

"Yes, I know. Zach, right?" he said gently.

"How the hell did you know?"

Ghost ignored that. "He's not exactly making you happy, is he?"

"It's not like that - we're very casual. Just friends with benefits, really. We're not responsible for one another's happiness, that's the whole point."

He raised an eyebrow. "The whole point?" he said dryly.

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"I'm not sure I do. I only know that you're miserable."

"Like another person can ever really make you happy."

"But if he's making you _un_happy," he said, "then whatever the arrangement, it's not working, is it?"

"That's more or less what you said about us."

"It's good advice. And forgive me, but sleeping with one man when you feel this way about another sounds neither like you, nor a recipe for happiness."

"It isn't so clearcut. Zach's a lovely guy."

"But?"

"How d'you know there's a but?"

"You made a pass at me five minutes ago. If that isn't an indication something's awry with your relationship..."

"Don't call it that," she said at once.

He looked at her, eyebrows raised, but said nothing.

She sighed. "Okay, okay."

"Why did you get involved with him at all?" Ghost asked. "When you've obviously fallen for someone else?"

"Stop saying that. Please. He has a girlfriend."

"Ah," Ghost said, and sighed. "I see. That's why."

"No, not only that. Zach cares for me. And I do him - we're friends. And..." she sighed again. "You're not going to like this, you never did, but..."

"But?"

She was silent for a few moments. Then she looked at Ghost. "He's interested in the Matrix," she said.

"In... the Matrix?"

"Yeah. I know you think it's bullshit, Ghost. But it's a big thing for us, we talk about it a lot. I've never been able to talk about it to anyone before - anyone who believes there's something to it, anyway. Something important. It just - I can't explain it to you. I never could."

"You have the Matrix in common," Ghost said slowly. "And you feel like you've never had it in common with anyone before."

"It sounds ridiculous when you put it like that, I know."

"No." He sighed and leaned his head back, over the edge of the couch, his eyes closed. "No, actually it makes a great deal of sense. But can I suggest that you focus this friendship on that aspect, and stop sleeping with him?"

"I really don't think he's the issue. Why I feel so disconnected."

"I'm quite sure he isn't _the_ issue. But he's adding to them. And do you really have the energy to spare?" He hesitated, and then added, "And is it fair to him? To have that kind of involvement, when you plainly have far stronger feelings, elsewhere?"

"I don't think he minds. We don't have that kind of arrangement."

"But have you asked him? How he feels about you? Or are you making assumptions?"

She was silent. Then she sighed. "No," she admitted. "No, I've not asked him. We've never talked about that at all."

"Well, far be it from me, but..."

She nodded soberly. "Yeah. We should have that conversation." She sighed. "_We_ should have had that conversation a lot earlier than we did, too. And I'd be sad to lose Zach, but God, Ghost. If I ever lost you..."

"You won't," he said at once. "Never. Just not possible."

"You swear to me?"

"Absolutely. But Zach...?"

"Yeah, I know. I'll talk to him."

* * *

_AN: thanks again for reviews, you guys are great. __Sorry these chapters are so depressing - sorry too at the long delay in posting; I've been on vacation and the cost of the net was crazy. Hopefully posting 4 chapters in 1 hit is compensation._

_**Miss Blaylock** that's an interesting point, that much of recent fandom seems to think Neo and Ghost can't get along. I think that's because very few people in fandom actually played the game that all that side of the plot is taken from - it's pretty geriatric, these days, and wasn't that widely played even at the time I don't think. In canon, Ghost cheers Trinity up when she's having a major wobble over Neo's facing a huge army/saving Zion, and makes it clear that he believes in Neo, too. He also tells the Oracle that he accepts Trinity loves Neo as much as he, Ghost, loves her, and that accepting that Trinity could never love him as anything but a brother was a relief, because it freed him from expectation. The strong implication is that he's happy if she is, when he talks about acceptance of harsh realities not being enough - you must love what life throws at you. The Oracle then comments that he's a good man. Trinity seemingly has no idea how he feels - she talks about finding him a girlfriend, which would be very cruel if she did - which implies that Neo doesn't know either. The official line, that they are what Zion regards as siblings because they were freed the same day, is probably the one Neo believes, too. It also seems unlikely that Trinity would do the kind of platonic flirting she does with Ghost if she knew, because she loves Neo too much to play those games (and actually I don't think she'd play them, even if she didn't). __Given how generous Ghost is, and how discreet, I doubt anyone has a clue. So the conflict stuff never made much sense to me - he seems to prioritize Trinity far too much to ever fall out with Neo, and Neo wouldn't ever want Trinity to lose anyone she loved either. That's my story and I'm sticking to it, anyway! I'm glad it works for you, too._


	14. Dreams

The dreams were getting odder.

Some were set in a giant cave, empty but for the two of them. It was vast, lit by torches flaming high above them, lava pools bubbling about them, stalactites and stalagmites supporting natural bays, alcoves, balconies and passages. They were barefoot, the rock warm beneath their feet, the limestone walls forming a giant natural cathedral overhead. It was beautiful, a natural wonder of the world; the kind of place the National Geographic would dedicate endless issues to, if it even existed. Which, when awake, Mackenzie very much doubted.

It looked utterly unlike anywhere she'd ever seen, but she was showing Tom around, clearly very familiar with the place. He wasn't - he was stunned, impressed, eyes wide with awe, asking endless questions. And he was a different man in every way - in fact, he was more like a boy. Innocent, trusting. Much skinnier. Paler. His hair so short, he was almost bald.

And he wasn't called Tom, in her dreams. His name, in this netherworld, was Neo.

The conversations never made a lick of sense, either.

_"A temple to whom?" _

_"Hmm?"_

_"Allah? Jesus? Buddha? Who're they worshipping, if it's a temple?"_

_She'd look at him._

_"What? What is it?"_

_"Neo..." her voice would trail away as she bit her lip, amused, apologetic._

_"What?" he said, looking at her. She looked away. "Oh God. Please tell me they're not Scientologists."_

_"You'll wish they were."_

_"Come on, how bad can it be?"_

_"Worse."_

_"You saying I'm not imaginative?"_

_"No. Just not an egomaniac."_

_"Huh?"_

_"They're praying for the return of the One," she said. _

_He took an abrupt step away from the balcony, as if afraid an audience would materialize from thin air. "Fuck _me."

_"If you wanted, they would."_

_"That's not funny," he said at once. _

_"I'm not joking."_

_There was a silence. Then he looked at her._

_"So what do they think the One can do?"_

_"Do?"_

_"Yeah. I mean, make liquor from Evian, grant three wishes, find the hidden entrance to Narnia, what?"_

_She raised an eyebrow. "Flying not enough for you?"_

_"That doesn't count. It's not real. They can't be impressed by video game heroics."_

_"I'm impressed - it's amazing. Don't ever underestimate it. Nobody else will."_

_"But you said these people aren't even on the fleet, so how the hell would they know? It must be more than Matrix stuff - so what?"_

_"You sure you want to hear this?"_

_"No," he said. He was rather whiter than usual. "But better you than anyone else."_

_"Watch over them," she said. "Save them. Not just save Zion - but save them, individually. Redeem them."_

_"What?" _

_"Ignore it. Their expectations are their problem."_

_He sighed, his eyes vulnerable, tired. "Great."_

_"Neo..."_

_He wrapped his arms around her; buried his nose in her neck. "They can all fuck off," he said, voice muffled._

_"The religious?"_

_"Everyone. Anyone. The whole damn lot of them. Everyone but you."_

She'd always wake from that dream feeling calm. Secure, contented. The dream-Mackenzie, it seemed, wanted nothing more than to have the dream-Tom profess eternal devotion, even amidst complete gobbledygook. A vulnerable, childlike, innocent version of the man under another name, who earnestly adored a tenderly protective Mackenzie.

All it needed was a unicorn.

It was the oddest dream, but not the most confusing. No, that accolade went to one of the ones - for there were many - set in a submarine. She'd wake, alone, in a large bunk in a small cabin. Steel everywhere - rusty, dirty, old. She'd pull on a sweater - his, she'd know in this dream, just as she knew that they shared the cabin, and that bed - and go in search of him. The dream terrain was absolutely familiar; she'd trace confident steps along hallways, through arches, round corners, then swing a heavy, rusty wheel at the center of a door, and enter some kind of bizarre dining room - porridgey-looking drinks hung in vats overhead. And Tom/Neo, sitting at the table, would look as depressed and remote as she'd see him at work. The same age, too. Hair the same as now, sadness the same as now. World-weary, a man who'd seen much too much suffering, the dream-innocence quite gone. He'd glance at her and then away, down at his own hands, and then they'd have a surreal conversation about his being afraid of something, and her trying, vainly, to reassure him. To hold him together with her own certainty, her own belief in him. And then some guy she'd never seen in her life before would appear and say they were late. That they had to go. Though to do what, she never discovered.

Because it was then, always, that she woke up.

In this dream, as in all the rest, they'd loved one another. They'd loved one another completely. And even when she woke, she couldn't shake it. The sense that, impossible as the dreams were, they were hiding a reality. Some truth that could only reveal itself in this oblique, sidelong way. Yet the more she fumbled for it through the mist, the more nebulous and unreachable it became. It felt as if she were chasing someone just out of sight, almost reaching them, only to find they'd turned another corner and her path was mistaken. None of it made any sense... but it felt true, just the same.

The most frightening one was a common enough anxiety dream - not dissimilar to one she'd had as an adolescent, in fact. She was falling. Falling from a skyscraper so high the cars below looked like toys, plummeting to the ground at deadly, annihilatory speed. But in this version, a man jumped after her - an obsessed murderer, his face oddly inhuman, shooting for her heart as if the sidewalk below were somehow survivable. As though its embrace were pillow-soft. And one bullet found its way home - the pain as it entered her body was indescribable, and she knew she was about to die. But the dream would end, always, the same way. Tom _(Neo)_ would catch her - because Tom _(Neo)_ could _fly_. And despite the pain and the shock and the fear, that moment when he cradled her against him - the world crashing away from them, as he moved at some impossible speed - that moment would always be one where she felt wholly safe. The panic and horror would drain away completely, and she'd relax. It was an anxiety dream like no other, because his arrival would resolve it, in that same second. She'd always wake up feeling at peace.

The dream that disturbed her most of all was simplicity itself - nothing happened. He wasn't even conscious. She'd lie awake in their bed, next to his warm, sleeping body. Her head on his shoulder, his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip. His other hand always lay in her own, meeting on his stomach, their fingers intertwined. She'd watch the steady rise and fall of his chest and she'd be bursting with it - how happy he made her, how contented she felt, how completely and unutterably she loved him. She'd lie there, marveling at her own good fortune. And when she woke from that dream - into her own bed, her real life - she'd be devastated, every time. Crazily, irrationally heartbroken by his absence; by the reality of her life. By a life without him.

That dream unsettled her so horribly, she'd more than once contemplated seeing a shrink after it. She was frightened it meant something, something very troubling, that a fantasy could make her so happy it instantly rendered her real life bleak and empty. But it was far, far too personal to share with anyone, because of something even more disturbing. Something that made it increasingly hard for her to sleep at all.

She hadn't been exaggerating, when she told Ghost she feared she was going crazy. And she'd not been able to confide it to him - even to him - the grounds for that fear. The truth was, the dreams had begun to feel much more real than her memories did. The lines were blurring, and one day soon, she might not be able to discriminate at all.


	15. Memory

"We'll come back for her, when she's well enough." He paused. "And him," he added evenly.

"That bad, huh?"

"It's fine." He was staring out at the drizzle as it misted her windows. It never seemed to rain properly here anymore. Always that half-hearted effort. It fit.

"Sounds it."

"He's a good guy," he said dully. "And he cares about her. In fact I think he loves her."

"That why you wanna kill him?"

Neo's face tightened. "It's my problem. I don't plan on making it theirs."

"Already is, wouldn't you say?"

"She has to make her own choices. Without," he glanced at her, "executive meddling. We'll work something out then, whatever she needs us to do."

She clicked her teeth. "Why do this to yourself? You know you could just look at her code."

"I'd never do that."

The Oracle raised an eyebrow. "Never?" she said.

"Only when she was hurt. It was for her, then."

"This wouldn't be?"

"No. It'd be disrespectful as hell. I won't spy on her."

"So you told Ghost."

"Yeah, well. Their conversations aren't my business either."

She sighed, evidently exasperated. "I once said you weren't too bright. Thought you'd proven me wrong - seems not."

He shrugged tiredly, but said nothing more.

"You ever wondered what it's gonna be like for her? When she remembers?"

"Of course I have. Knowing I saw this won't help her."

"She'll be scared you can't forgive her. That will?"

"There's nothing I couldn't forgive her. And there's nothing to forgive. She's done nothing wrong. But I have to give her the chance to forget, if she wants to. Everything that's happened." He sighed. "Me, even, if that's what she needs to do."

"You're running away for her sake, not your own? Noble of you."

He followed her eyes to the writing above the door, and his face tightened again. "You've been pretty involved. In what she and I have. The war's over now; it's not something that affects anyone else anymore. We have to work it out for ourselves."

"No man is an island. Or woman, either." She took another drag on her cigarette, then exhaled it into a deep cloud of smoke. "Specially when it comes to the survival of the species."

"Yeah, well. I think we've already done our bit for the species. Someone else can have a turn."

"Just as well that girl of yours can see straighter, even when she's _blind_," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. And if you don't, then heaven help you, 'cause I sure as hell can't."

* * *

He printed off the few emails Trinity had sent him - even the most perfunctory and mundane were precious, when he had nothing else - and then cleared his desk of the imaginary detritus of his imaginary job. He went to the elevator with his head down, avoiding eye contact with anyone. As soon he left the building, he exhaled, and tried to push away the sudden emptiness.

He wasn't going to see her now, not for weeks.

And when he did, Zach might be with her.

He still couldn't accept it. Couldn't believe it was happening at all. How the hell had it - had _they_ - come to this? Four months ago, she'd told him she'd give anything and everything for him, and less than a day later she'd proven it. She'd died for him, and done it gladly. And now another man held her, kissed her, touched her, shared her bed. He wondered, yet again, how he could know this and endure it. But of course, he couldn't. It was why he was leaving, after all.

When he got in he slumped in a chair, his head in his hands, and exhaustedly awaited contact. All that mattered, now, was that he'd be home soon. Out of this place. Free of code, back with his own kind, in his own apartment, in Zion. Somewhere he could honor his past and acknowledge his memories, with people who shared them, people who knew him, in a place that was real.

Then it suddenly hit him. _Was_ it even his apartment? When it had always been hers? When he had no idea what she'd want, when she was freed? She might choose to leave behind the pain and loss and fear that had haunted every step of what they'd shared. And if she did, would she resent his assumption that her bed was still his, that he could move straight back into her home, even in her absence, even knowing she was with someone else? Had their relationship, forged in war as it was, now served its purpose? Would another man share their bed in Zion, share her life, make love to her by the light of those flickering candles? Where, now, did he belong?

He had a sudden, sickening memory of the palatial new duplex being constructed for him off the main concourse. He'd been horrified when told; he'd wanted to tell them to forget it, that they surely had better uses for Zion's resources. But then he'd realized that he had to consult Trinity - it wasn't only his decision, after all, where they lived. And now it looked like he might live there by himself. Rattle around an eight room apartment - the largest in Zion - all alone.

There wasn't an end to it. He wasn't sure there ever would be.

A knock on the door broke him from the misery, and he moved across gratefully to answer it. But it wasn't who he expected.

"Is this a bad time?" she said eventually, as he stared at her, shocked. She sounded awkward, hesitant, thrown by his reaction. Already regretting whatever impulse had brought her here in the first place. It depressed him horribly.

He rubbed his eyes with his fists, exhausted, bleary. At a complete loss. Then a thought suddenly struck him. "How did you... you know where I live?" For a moment, he had a wild hope that she'd remembered, that she was here to tell him so, but her next words punctured that illusion completely.

"Zach gave me your address." She looked at him, frowning slightly, her eyes worried. He suddenly realized how unwelcoming he'd sounded, almost accusatory. Like she was some kind of stalker. "I didn't mean to intrude... if you have, you know." She cleared her throat. "Someone coming over. Or..."

"No," he said at once. "Nothing like that."

"You sure? Because I can..."

"I'm glad to see you," he interrupted. "I was just confused. I mean..." he sighed, and gave up. "Why are you here?"

"To talk you into goodbye drinks," she said simply. "They'd made plans - everyone at work."

So she was just here as some kind of deputation from the office. It wasn't personal at all. The disappointment was so crushing, he couldn't bring himself to respond.

"I said I'd do it because I figured nobody else would let you say no," she said, when the silence threatened to become awkward.

"It was why I left early. To avoid it."

She nodded. "I thought so."

There was another silence, before Neo ventured, "So is... is he in the car?"

"What?" she said blankly.

"Zach. Is he in the car."

"Oh. No, he's not with me." She paused, then added, "We broke up."

He stood silent for a moment, trying to hide his emotion. "I hope you're okay," he said at last.

"I'm fine. It was best ended."

"Well. I hope so."

But she didn't seem interested; just stood looking at him, an oddly questioning expression on her face. "Can I ask you something?" she said.

"Ask me something?"

"Yeah."

"Sure. What is it?"

"It's a little embarrassing. If I'm wrong."

"Embarrassing?"

"Yeah." She hesitated. "You see, I have a gap of a few months - before the accident. No memories at all."

"Okay," he said doubtfully. He had no idea why she would raise this with him. Nor why the machines had done it at all.

"But the thing is," she went on, her voice level and steady, "I think I knew you. Before I started at work, I mean. I can't remember you, but I just - I have this feeling." She was looking at him intently. "Did I?"

He was silent for a few minutes, just staring back at her, as he tried to establish what the hell to do - what would be in her best interests. "Yeah," he said eventually. "Yeah, you did."

She let her breath out, seemingly unaware she'd been holding it. "I knew it. It's been getting to me for weeks." He remained silent, as she stood, looking at him, waiting for him to say more. Eventually she gave up and spoke herself. "Was it well? That you knew me?"

He nodded, his eyes guarded, but volunteered nothing further.

"How well?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"That's alright. I'm not in any hurry."

"It'll sound... a little strange."

"Really."

"Yeah. In fact I'm not sure that it's such a good idea. Talking about it, I mean."

Her mouth began to set. "You think I don't have a right to know about my own life?"

"Of course you do. But..." he made a helpless gesture, "it's complicated."

"Life usually is," she said.

"Not this complicated. And I just - I don't know what you want to know. How much you want to know, either."

"The truth would be good," she said, her voice so very even he knew she was perilously close to losing her temper. "All of it."

"We... we had something," he said at last. He couldn't look at her - he was frightened she'd read his mind if he did. But this final evasiveness was too much, it seemed, for Trinity.

"Look, at this rate it could take hours. Are you trying to tell me we had sex?"

_They had sex. _The bare words seemed so inadequate, so unrelated to what had passed between them - the passionate exchange of joy, of commitment, of love. But he couldn't begin to convey that to her - to describe the communion they'd shared. "Yeah," he said at last, reluctant. It seemed such a betrayal. "I guess so."

"More than once?"

He winced and looked away, quite unable to answer. Her face softened, as she took in his distress.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said, and sighed. "I know how hard things are with you - I'm sorry to have added to it. I can appreciate why you just..." She paused, then went on, "Why you wanted to forget it ever happened. Look, I'll just... I'll go."

"What?" he said, horrified. She'd already turned away, was starting to walk down the hallway; face averted, head bowed. He caught her arm. "No - God, you have this so wrong." He knew he sounded desperate, but he couldn't help himself - he _was_ desperate. However anxious he'd been about this moment, however frightened of the widening distance between them, he'd never imagined anything as bad as this. "_No_. Trinity, please. Please don't do this, I can't bear it, it's been months already. Please, just don't."

She froze. Then she turned her head as though she were moving underwater, and stared at him. "What did you just call me?" she said.

He stood dumbly for a moment, then briefly closed his eyes as he realized. "Oh, _Christ_."

"What the hell?" Her mouth began to tighten. "What _is_ this?"

"God, I'm so sorry. Look, there's nothing to be afraid of. I swear there's not."

"No," she said curtly. He recognized the expression on her face; she was shutting down everything other than her mind and her anger now: focused, tough. Survival mode. _Matrix_ mode. "You're fucking with me. You have to be - this is way too insane for anything else."

"Fucking with...? Jesus, Trinity, I'd never do anything to hurt you. I'd die first."

"But you clearly _are_," she said, her eyes hostile, her mouth set in a grim line, "and yet mysteriously you remain very much alive."

"No. I'd never do that. Whether you believe me or not, it's the truth."

"But you have to be. You went on and on about this woman. About how fucking _insane_ she was..."

"I never said you were insane. Never. Only that you'd forgotten everything. Forgotten _me_. And you already know that's true. You asked, remember?"

She looked at him, contemptuous. "You're trying to tell me I've forgotten my own _name_?"

"And mine," he said, and sighed. "Not that it matters. But you forgot mine, too."

She suddenly went very still. "What?" she said.

"My name isn't Tom."

"So what is it?"

"Neo."

_"_Neo?" she said slowly, and there was something in her voice that caught his attention.

"Yeah. You never called me anything else."

She stood looking at him, her face blank. Thinking. It made him feel sick, knowing the damage this could do her; knowing he should have allowed her to walk away - out of his life again, if that was what she needed. It was too soon for these revelations. Asking a leap of faith of this magnitude was asking way the hell too much, even of her. But there was nothing he could do to help or convince. So he stood, silently watching her, expecting a renewed onslaught of questions. Questions he didn't know if he should, even could, answer.

But she didn't ask them.

She just stood for several minutes, looking at him intently. Then she closed the two paces between them, took his face in her hands, and kissed him.


	16. Familiar

The shock was so total that he didn't respond at once, just stood, rigid, unable to believe it was happening at all. Then the misery lifted for the first time in months as he felt her mouth move on his own, her fingers clasped possessively at the back of his neck. He put his arms around her and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss; she melted into him in response, just as she'd always done. It was how they'd always reunited after painful separations, comforted one another, restored the other to full equilibrium. They'd always been able to communicate anything, in this secret language they'd long ago made their own. Nothing had changed. She was his. She'd always been his, and in that moment, he knew it.

When they finally, reluctantly, pulled apart, she held his face in her hands and stared at him. "I don't remember you," she said, frustrated. "But I _know_ you. I know you completely."

"Trinity..." he ran his fingers through her hair. The scent was the same; even in this place, even after everything, she still smelled of herself. He kissed her again, a kiss so achingly familiar it was almost too much to bear. Then he rested his forehead against her own, his fingers still entwined in silky black strands, and breathed her in.

"My memories," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "They're not real, are they?"

"No. They're not."

She exhaled. "God. I knew it. I thought I was going crazy."

"I'm sorry..."

"No." She put a finger to his lips - the old Trinity; calm, strong. "I'm not afraid anymore. I know it's the world that's wrong, not me." She smiled a little. "Though that sounds crazy, too."

"It doesn't sound crazy at all."

There was a silence for a few moments, and then she said, "I was in love with you, wasn't I."

He closed his eyes. "Yes."

"And you me?"

"Yes. God, yes."

He felt her hand brush his cheek. It made him shiver.

"We never broke up, did we?"

He shook his head, mute.

"When I had the accident. We were still together?"

He nodded, and she sighed. "Okay."

"I should explain," he said helplessly. "Why I never told you. Why I avoided you. But it's going to sound insane - I don't know where to start."

She was quiet for a moment, and then she said, "It's alright. I can wait. Just... don't disappear on me."

"No."

There was silence then for several minutes, and he lost himself in her breathing, in her scent, in the feel of her in his arms.

"Do you still?" she said eventually, so softly, he could hardly hear the words. "Even after everything?"

"You already know that."

"I think so. But I need to hear you say it."

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I love you. I've always loved you. Nothing could ever change that."

She kissed him, then sighed. "I have to get back to work," she said. "God, I hate that place. Look, is it... can I come over, after?"

He reached into his pocket for his keys and pressed them into her fingers. "Here. They're yours." She looked up at him and smiled, a warm, intimate smile, straight into his eyes. The one she never gave anyone else. Then it faded, and she bit her lip.

"Zach..." she said with difficulty, her eyes miserable. "We should probably talk about it."

He didn't want to remember that. Ever, if he had the choice. "It doesn't matter," he said at once.

"I think it does. Unfortunately."

"Forget it. I will."

"Neo..." she began, but he cut her off.

"No. Please, just no." He kissed her again, and then buried his face in her neck, his arms tightly around her. "I don't care," he said, his voice muffled. "I just... I've missed you so much. I've needed you so much. And you're here. It's enough. God, Trin, it's everything."

* * *

The program sent to collect him had been irritated when he explained he couldn't come. That things had changed. "I had specific orders."

"I know. I'm sorry. But the parameters have altered since then. I can't leave."

"What message should I take? They will require an explanation."

"That... that she needs me here. She's starting to remember. And I need to know how safe that will be for her. Can you ask them to let me know? Please?"

The program, an attractive brunette, sighed. "I hope that makes more sense to them that it does to me."

"Me too."

She looked at him more carefully then; read his code. Her eyes widened. "You are the One. The Anomaly."

"Yeah. That's me."

"So _she_ must be... when you say_ she_, you mean Trinity?"

"That's right."

She nodded then. "Very well. I understand now. Forgive me - I was not aware of your identity. I believed you to be human."

"I am human."

"Well yes, but an unusual human. They are capricious. It is innate to them. You are not. And in this instance, you are exhibiting loyalty to the woman, not indecision. Correct?"

He smiled slightly. "You're not programmed to spend much time with humans, are you?"

"No," she agreed. "And I find them confusing, to be frank. However. This is besides the point. You wish to remain because Trinity is recovering her memory, and she now relies upon your presence. And you wish to know when she will be able to depart herself. And whether recovering her memories may be harmful to the speed of her recovery. Is that correct?"

"That's it."

She nodded. "I shall convey that."

"Thank you."

She nodded once more. "You are welcome. And it is we who must thank you. You ended this war, for us all. You saved both worlds. We do not forget. We," there was a glimmer of a smile, "are not capricious."

* * *

He slept after that, well and soundly, the first time he'd had unbroken sleep since Trinity had started at work.

He was woken by her arms around his shoulders, her voice whispering his name. He rolled over and pulled her against him as they kissed. "Hey," he said, smiling up at her through sleep-blurred eyes.

"I quit."

"Hmm?" He was confused. "You quit what?"

"Work. I quit. Figured we could use some time, given everything. That that was the priority right now."

He stared at her for a moment, then pulled her to him and hugged her close. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much."

They ate Chinese takeout that night, before watching a movie on cable, curled up in his bed. Trinity had undressed without hesitation or embarrassment, as though sharing his bed, his life, had never been interrupted at all. She wanted to make love, he knew. He hated that he couldn't explain why he didn't. But no explanation he could offer would make any sense to her, not yet. All he could do was gently pull away, kiss her as reassurance, try to indicate wordlessly that the rejection was not what it seemed.

But Trinity's guilt was too great for reassurance to be possible.

"I'm so sorry," she said, biting her lip. "I wish - I just wish, you know?"

"It's not that," he said at once. "I swear to you, Trin, it isn't. I want to - I want _you_. Jesus, you have no idea how much. It's just - not here. Not yet."

She was still for a few minutes, while he tried in vain to think of some explanation she could understand. One that didn't entail the Matrix, and a potential audience - both human and program. But she broke the silence before he did.

"Tell me a memory," she said.

"What?"

"A memory. A good one. From before."

He thought for a moment, his mind suddenly blank. So many of their memories were impossibly complicated, an indissoluble blend of joy and heartbreak, tied up with a world she knew nothing about; a war he couldn't even begin to describe. The simple, the unambiguously happy were luxuries they'd so rarely been afforded. How to select a memory that could be self-contained, could convey the love and the joy without the rest?

And then he remembered.

"We'd been busy," he said, stroking her hair. "Work. Too much to do, not enough sleep, other people there most of the time. No chance to be... well. Close. Not for days and days. We had an hour or two free, maybe, before we had to go to a gathering."

"A what?"

"Party. Kind of."

She nodded, thoughtful. "And?"

"We just wanted to get home. Be together. But I got waylaid by some people. They had... oh, questions. Requests. And you told me to stay with them; said they needed me. I said, I needed _you_. And then you said..." he smiled, remembering it. "You said, you knew. But there was time. There'd be time for us." He started playing with her fingers. "Then I met you later, at the gathering, and you'd gotten changed, and God, you were beautiful. I wish I'd said as much. I never told you. In all the time we were together, I just never did. I wish I had. And it was like when we first met - we met in a club, you see." She raised an eyebrow then, skeptical. "Yeah. I know. Long story. Just... trust me. But it was like being back there - I saw you, and I couldn't breathe. Always feels like that when I see you, like you're happening to me for the first time. And we went back to our place, and..." his voice trailed away. He'd never been fluent about this stuff, even before.

"We made love?" she said simply.

He smiled, amused by her ease on the subject. "Yeah." Then the smile faded, as he remembered his panic, her reassurance. But after all, hadn't she been right? She was still here. He hadn't lost her, in the end.

"What?" she said.

"Hmm?"

"There's something else. You're remembering something else, aren't you."

"Yeah."

"Tell me?"

He was silent for a moment, and then he said, "I'd been having dreams for a while by then. That you were going to die. And you knew something was wrong. I told you..." He swallowed, eyes dark with the memory. "I said that I couldn't lose you."

"What did I say?"

"You said I wasn't going to. That you wouldn't let it happen. Words to that effect."

"I did, though." She sighed. "I'm sorry."

"No," he said. "You didn't. Here we are."

"Yeah. Here we are." She thought for a moment, and then asked, "When was this? I mean, how long ago?"

"Couple or so nights before you were hurt."

"So what, four months ago?"

"Something like that."

She was silent, her hand in his, and then she said, "We'll make more memories?"

"Yeah. We will."

"Because I don't think I'll get the old ones back."

"You will," he said, surprised. "And soon, I think."

She shook her head. "No, I don't think so. I've had so many dreams about you, but they're all symbolic. Not one was real. It's like I can't see the past - the real past - at all. The feelings between us were genuine, I knew that. But the rest's just... impossible. There's a total block on how we lived. What we did, when we were together. And I can't see that changing anytime soon. It's been too consistent. Crazy - but consistent."

"How, crazy?" he asked. "I mean, in what sense?"

"In every sense," she said, her tone grim. "There's a reason I thought I was losing it."

"Why? What happened?"

She shrugged. "Oh, you know what dreams are like."

"So what made you think they were impossible?"

She eyed him for a moment. "Well, we lived on a submarine, in a lot of them. Hung out in caves, in others. Fought bad guys with kung-fu and handguns. Had some serious car chases." She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, and Neo? One more thing."

"What?"

"You can fly," she said gravely.


	17. Gunshy

He sensed something was wrong the second he woke up.

He felt for her in the bed, groggily at first, then increasingly frantically.

She wasn't there.

"Trin?" He sat up. "_Trinity_?"

Her voice came from the far side of the room.

"I'm here."

The sickening familiarity of that exchange finished him altogether - he threw the covers off and reached her in two strides. "Trinity?" He fumbled for the light and flicked it on.

She was shaking - from shock or from cold; he couldn't tell. He started rubbing her arms, to comfort as well as warm - she wasn't wearing anything either, so he reached for a blanket and wrapped it over her shoulders. Her very passivity unnerved him more than anything else could have. It was so unlike her.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

There was a silence, and just when he thought he wasn't going to get an answer, she spoke. "I remember."

"What?"

"Everything," she said. "I remember everything."

"Everything...?"

"The Matrix. The war. Zion." She paused, and then said, her voice more frightened than he'd ever heard it, "The machine city."

His stomach tensed. This was exactly what he'd been warned against - uncontrolled return of her memory, if they got too close. He swallowed hard, then focused on the practical. "It's cold, Trinity." He stood, and held out a hand. "Come back to bed. We can talk there."

He led her back to bed and settled her against him under the covers, then hugged her tightly; as much for his own comfort as hers. "Everything's okay. I swear it is."

"Morpheus?" she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Link? Niobe?"

"Fine. Everyone on that ship's fine. Zion's safe. The war's over."

"So why are we jacked in? Are we - we're not stuck here?"

"No. But they're still healing you. The machines, I mean. We'll go home just as soon as you're well enough - you were pretty badly hurt."

"The machines?" she said, and stared at him. "Why? Why would they?"

"Peace offering, I guess. They want this to hold as much as we do."

"What?"

He smiled a little. "They're sick of fighting too. And they figured sending us home in one piece might be a good way to show it."

She nodded slowly, looking somewhat unconvinced. Then she said, "How did you do it? Peace, I mean?"

"We made a deal - I stopped Smith. He was threatening their survival as well as ours." He paused, not sure how she'd take the next part. "I let him take me over; stopped fighting. Then they were able to delete him."

She breathed out and settled back against him, closing her eyes. "I knew you would."

"Stop Smith?" he said, surprised. "Or let him win?"

"Save Zion. I knew you'd find a way."

He could think of no response to that, so he just held her until she spoke again.

She sounded better - calmer, more together. "Zion - how bad is it?"

"The dock's a bit - well. Like someone let Sparks do the catering. But the rest is pretty much okay. Nobody we were tight with was hurt." He hesitated, wondering whether reminding her of the annihilated fleet was a bad idea, and decided it was. Either she remembered that or she didn't - he wasn't about to force it upon her.

But there was something else they did have to talk about. "Trinity - why I stayed away. You have to have wondered."

"You had reason," she said. "I know that."

"Yeah. I did. I was told you'd break through the programming if we were together too much; that it would harm your recovery."

"Being with you would harm my recovery?" she said, frowning.

"Not me, exactly. Just everything, these past months. They said the stress of remembering too soon could put too great a strain on you, that you'd be better with them giving you a very gentle past. You needed calm. They said I had to give you time to heal, and when it was safe, they'd remove the uploads, and we could go back home. So I went along with it. I had to."

"The Matrix is relaxing?" Her voice was flat.

"No, but..."

"I thought I was going crazy, Neo. Literally, I mean. Christ, I was an orphan, I got out at twelve, I never fit here at all."

"But the stress..."

"Being with you was never stressful," she said. "Never. Events were, sometimes, but then they were over, and we were okay. Things were okay. Here... God. I can't even tell you. What it's been like." She shivered. "Though Ghost could." She was silent for a moment, chewing her lip, and then she said, "Has he? Talked to you about what I told him?"

"No," he said at once, relieved that he could answer in the negative. She'd had so little autonomy - whatever the Oracle and Ghost had thought, this was a decision he'd been sure about. He wasn't about to eavesdrop on her confidential chats with her best friend, least of all when she was so vulnerable. Anything she wanted him to know, she would tell him herself in her own time.

"Neo - I made a pass at him."

Neo blinked. Left-field wasn't even close. "You did _what_?" he said.

She turned around so she could see him, and her eyes broke his heart. Huge, and guilt-stricken, and utterly miserable. "They programmed it that I'd been happy, mostly, when we were married. I started to think it was leaving him that had fucked everything up, that it was that that made the world so horribly wrong." She shuddered. "God, I can't believe I did it. Poor Ghost - he was horrified."

"He loves you," he said helplessly. "He'll understand. He won't blame you - how could he?"

"He was very tactful. Gave excellent advice." Her mouth twisted wryly. "Mostly how this mystery woman of yours wasn't any barrier. That the guy I should be with was you."

Neo put his mouth to her temple and kissed her. "Well. There you go."

"It isn't him I'm worried about."

"Zach'll never know," Neo said gently. It didn't matter, not alongside her distress. "Who'd tell him?"

She shook her head, bemused. "I hadn't even thought of whether it was fair or unfair on him. We didn't have that kind of setup. I've been worried about you, not Zach."

He hesitated. He'd meant it, that they shouldn't talk about this. Why salt a wound that would heal, unmolested? But he couldn't help himself. "It wouldn't ever have got serious?"

She stared at him in horror. "God, no. Neo, I ended it as soon as I figured he cared. No future whatsoever."

"So..." he couldn't find the words.

"It was the Matrix," she said. "We were looking for Morpheus. I was desperate - things were all wrong and I couldn't work out _why_. I was just... everything was messed up. I knew something was missing, something essential, but nothing made any sense at all except _you_, and I had to leave you alone." She rubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. "I thought that was what you needed. What I could give you; do for you. Space."

"Yeah," he said. "I can understand that one."

She hesitated, and then said, with difficulty, "You were going home, weren't you. To Zion. That's why you were leaving."

He nodded, ashamed.

"Was this why?"

"The Matrix?" he said. "I guess. I was losing it here without you."

"No. Zach."

He was silent. Then he said, "I've been jacked in too long - my mind's been playing tricks on me. I figured maybe you'd want him, even when you remembered. I'm so sorry, Trinity. I can't tell you how sorry I am."

"Neo..." she began to blink back tears. "Don't. Please, just don't. This isn't your fault, for God's sake don't apologize. Not when I let you down so badly."

"You could never let me down."

"I did."

"We both of us lost it a little in here, that's all."

"It hurt you."

He shrugged. "Persephone hurt you."

"That's different," she said at once.

"Yeah. I knew what was happening, and I still did it. I made a conscious choice."

"You didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice. Even if they're not easy, they're still choices. And I made one here too. Ghost disagreed, you know. Said you had to get your memories back, that the costs were too high - I overrode him. We both did the best we could, Trinity. We both screwed up. Let's just leave it at that - please, I can't bear seeing you so unhappy. It isn't even like any of it was real - it's just the fucking Matrix. It's over, you're _here_. And I need you so much. Things in Zion... Jesus, the politics there now is insane. Please. Just let it go."

She looked at him for a moment. "You're saying I have to get past it for your sake?"

He nodded, his eyes fixed on hers. "Please."

"Sneaky," she observed.

"But it's true."

"Yeah, I know. That's the sneakiest part."

* * *

They were woken by the door.

Neo pulled on his robe and opened it. Then he stepped outside and shut it behind him. "Hey," he said, his face utterly expressionless.

"Is - is this a bad time?" Zach said, raising an eyebrow as he took in the sleepy eyes and disheveled hair.

"Kind of. I'm sorry."

"You have someone with you?"

"Yeah."

"Is it _her_?"

Neo looked at him for a moment, guarded. "Yeah," he said.

Zach's face warmed into a smile. A smile both genuine and delighted; it made Neo ashamed of his lingering resentment. He suddenly realized that Zach himself looked shocking. Exhausted, red-rimmed eyes, clothes that looked slept in. "Oh man, that's great! Look, I'll catch you later - was just passing and figured I'd drop in, make the most of it, with you leaving town and all. I've not been at work myself, this week. Was meant to corral you for drinks - had to get Kenz to do it - she catch you up?"

"Yeah. She did."

"Okay, cool. Call me when you have a moment - and I'd love to meet her. Hell, what programmer wouldn't?" The smile faded. "Always thought she and Kenz would get along, actually. Figured they'd have a lot in common."

Neo said nothing.

Zach sighed. "We broke up. Did you hear?"

"Yeah, I did." He tried to think of something to say - he couldn't bring himself to express regret. "Hope you're doing okay," he said eventually.

Zach tried to smile. "I'll live. Life's a bitch, right."

"I guess. Sometimes."

"Hopefully it'll work out. She's bound to be a little gun-shy, after everything."

"Gun-shy?" Neo said doubtfully. It seemed singularly inapposite: Trinity and firearms were on the friendliest of terms.

"Yeah. She's been through a lot. Divorced last year, almost killed this, last thing she needs is some moron getting heavy with her, under a month in. Making emotional demands. She's not like most chicks, you know? Not big on sappy - just likes life simple."

"Ah."

"Yeah. But if I give her some time..." he shrugged. "Who knows."

Neo looked away, his fingers tapping an involuntary beat on the door, and Zach smiled. "Sorry, bad time for this. Look - call me, okay? And I'm so happy for you. Seriously. I am. I know how much you like her. Figured you'd been missing her a lot."

Neo looked up then, startled, to be met by honest hazel eyes and a warm smile. "Thanks," he said awkwardly.

When he shut the door behind him again he leaned against it, his head on the wood, and then felt Trinity's arms lock around him, her face pressed against his chest. "I'm so sorry," she said softly.

"No." He looked down at her. "I was just thinking how self-indulgent I've been. He's going through hell, it's about to get a lot worse - and I 've everything I've ever wanted."

She smiled a little. "Well. Maybe not everything."

"Everything I've wanted since being freed, yeah. You, peace, life in Zion. What else is there?"

"A job," she said, and grimaced. "There's no fleet anymore, is there? What're we going to do?"

"The fleet's being rebuilt. The machines will let anyone go who wants to. They've even programs to do the actual freeing, once we identify candidates. Safer, that way. It won't be dangerous anymore - no swimming in sewers when still atrophied. They'll deliver them to us in one piece. But yeah, there'll be work on the ships, if that's what you want."

She pulled back a little and looked at him, surprised. "Don't you?"

"I want to work at something, sure. Something I don't hate. And I want to be with you. After that... I don't care much about the specifics."


	18. Knowledge

"Hello?"

She took a long breath. "It's me," she said.

The intercom crackled emptily for a long moment, oceanic white noise. Then the buzzer went.

He was standing at the door to the apartment as she left the elevator. Red-rimmed eyes with dark shadows beneath. Unshaven. The tee crumpled, and the sweatpants worse. She shook her head as she looked at him.

"Jesus, Zach."

He tried to smile. "Yeah, well. Dunno if you heard, but I got dumped. Liked her a lot. Kind of threw me."

"Zach..."

"Sorry, sorry. Bad joke." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Look, you were right, it's for the best, if you were never..." he trailed off, then tried again. "I'll be fine - shit happens, you know? S'just the wound-licking phase. You didn't need to come over, Kenz. I'd hate you to feel worse."

"No, I did. We need to talk."

"Take it you've not had a change of heart?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"You're not pregnant?"

She blinked. "What?"

"No again. Okay." He pulled the door wider to let her pass. "You better come in."

The apartment looked like a bomb had gone off, leaving no survivors. His comforter on the couch, CNN on mute. Chip packets and takeout containers littering every surface. Empty cigarette packets. And bottles. Way, way too many bottles.

She bit her lip. "Christ."

"Yeah, I'm sorry, it's kind of a mess."

She raised her eyebrows, looking around, and then sighed and shook her head. "I just wish I'd known earlier."

"You'd never have dated me if I'd told you," he said at once.

"No," she agreed. "And then you wouldn't feel this way."

"I don't regret it. Not for a second. Best thing that ever happened to me. I meant it, you know - I haven't ever been so happy before."

She flinched a little, and his face softened, looking at her. "It's okay, I won't go on. Don't want to make you uncomfortable. Just... tell me you don't regret it, either?" There was a silence, and he swallowed, before venturing, "Kenz?"

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice gentle. "I can't."

His eyes filled with tears. He wiped them angrily with his fists. "God, ignore me. I'm being pathetic."

"I just want you to be okay."

"Then please," he said, his voice raw. "Just - don't. Not that you wish it'd never happened at all. Was it so very bad, what we had?"

"Of course it wasn't. It wasn't _bad_, period. You're great."

He put a hand out, cupped her face tenderly. "Kenz..." but she retreated at once, her face instantly expressionless.

"I'm sorry, I just..." he stopped, plainly trying to hold back tears. "Look, this is too soon. For this conversation. I can't be this way with you - please, you should go. Just give me a little time. We can talk more in a couple weeks."

But she shook her head. "We can't. I'm leaving in the next few days. I've quit work already."

He blinked. "You did what?"

"I have a life elsewhere. I need to get back to it. This - here - it's over, for me."

"What are you talking about? You're not making any sense."

"This isn't where I want to be. I remember, now. Who I am. Where I belong. And I need to go home."

"Okay, Kenz?" he said, awkward now. "You're really starting to scare me. This just - you really aren't making sense. Where is _home_? And what d'you mean, you didn't know who you were? You always knew exactly who the hell you were. You're one of the most grounded people I ever met."

"I wasn't. I was just good at faking it." She sighed. "I was... well, brain injured. Making bad choices."

He stared at her for a long, horrible moment. "Let me get this straight. You're saying you only dated me from_ brain damage_?" He sat down heavily. "Jesus Christ."

"No, Of course not. But I couldn't remember things - important things. Important people." She paused, and then said, "One, especially."

He thought for a moment, chewing his lip as he processed this, then suddenly he froze. "Oh no," he said, and began shaking his head. "Kenz. Please just tell me I have this wrong."

"I'm sorry. I don't think I can."

"There's someone else?"

She nodded, her eyes on his.

"But... it's not serious." He couldn't keep the pleading edge from his voice. "I mean if you didn't even remember the guy, then it can't be, right?"

"Very serious."

His face crumpled. "But you said... you said you didn't_ do_ serious. You said you didn't like being dependent. You said..." his voice broke, thick with misery, and he squeezed his eyes shut to quell the tears. Then he said, his voice barely a whisper, "You said you didn't do falling in love."

"I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"You're in_ love_ with this guy now?"

"Yes, I am." She wouldn't apologize for that. However much she wanted to spare Zach hurt, she'd never apologize for Neo.

"And this is going to be, what, longterm?"

"It's permanent."

"You're _engaged_?" He put a shaking hand over his eyes.

She was silent then, thinking. Everyone in Zion already knew - always had known. Predestined lovers, resurrection - it tended to have that effect on people. And she'd never needed evidence, herself. Her love for Neo had always been so intense, so overwhelming, that nothing else had ever really mattered, not since the day they'd met. It had taken him a little longer - but not much. Loving one another was fundamental to who they were. So what point would there be, in a ring and some words - it would only rubber-stamp a much larger reality. But to say as much to Zach - to admit they'd never bother with marriage, never see the point in a legal tie - might be to give him false hope.

"This is it, for us," she said at last. "There'll never be anyone else. There could never be."

The hand dropped from his face as he raised his eyes in shock. "But there has been," he said. "Me."

"No," she said, as gently as she could. "Not really."

"So what, the past month just never fucking happened?" His voice became more high-pitched, choked; misery and anger battling for dominance. "I just dreamed it all now? You're telling me I never made love to you at all?"

"No, Zach. You didn't." She sighed, looking at his uncomprehending, furious face, and amended it to something he could understand. "That wasn't what it was. And in time, you'll see that as clearly as I do."

He slammed away from her then, across the room. "You know something?" he said, struggling to keep it together, "Keep right on going, Kenz. Because if this is some kind of aversion therapy, then Christ, is it working. What the fuck - you telling me that we were just some kind of _blip,_ now I'm making your marital project less than perfectly symmetrical? Tidy-minded, hey, always great with the algorithms. Well, you can't just delete this. Because you slept with me - _it happened_ - and at the time, you weren't fucking complaining. And whatever you want to call it now, however you try to dress it up, I _was_ making love to you. I had no fucking idea it was just you cheating on your boyfriend. I thought I _was_ your boyfriend. You can't edit that out; this isn't fucking code. This is human and messy and complicated and _real_."

"I lost my memory," she said, gently inexorable. "I lost _him_." If he was to choose red, he needed to know. She was under no illusions; he'd not be able to avoid hearing about Neo in Zion, nor their relationship. And once Zach was freed, there'd be no way back. No escape. "But even before I remembered - even when I'd lost what we had - I knew I loved him, and how much. I love him absolutely, Zach. More than I knew I was capable of loving anyone. It was the first thing to come back to me. It's the most important, I guess, in knowing who I am. And nothing - nothing that did, or didn't happen with you - changes that. Nothing ever could change it."

He was staring at her now, his face utterly incredulous. "Jesus wept - who the hell _are_ you? You sound like some fucking stupid teenager - you should hear yourself! You sound fucking ridiculous - this isn't _you_."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said, her voice kind, yet detached.

"Mmm. You sound it. Slept with him yet?"

"That's between him and me."

"We broke up ten days ago." His voice was hoarse. "Is it so unreasonable, to want to know?"

She paused, and then said quietly, "Yes."

He stared at her for a few minutes. Then he said abruptly, "This guy. He knows about me?"

"Of course."

"And you're telling me he's totally okay with it? With you fucking someone else?"

She bit back her instinctive response; that Neo's feelings were none of his damn business. Zach's reaction was normal. Human. She knew that, and didn't resent it. But it also threw Neo's generosity of spirit into sharp relief - all he'd cared about was her. About convincing her that nothing had changed, that his trust in her hadn't been shaken, that she was, still, quite unfathomably loved. He'd never had the least shading of selfishness, of egotism, and even now, even confronted by this, the very last person he'd considered was himself. She knew, quite definitely, that she'd never loved him more.

"He understands," she said eventually.

Zach laughed then, a laugh of pure disbelief, but he didn't argue. "Who is he?" he said instead.

"Does it matter?"

"You know, for an intelligent woman you're saying some unbelievably fucking _stupid_ things. Who is he?"

She looked at him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Neo," she said. "His name is Neo."

"_Neo_?"

She nodded.

"As in, the _hacker, _Neo?"

"Yes."

He paused for a moment, thinking, then froze. "Oh, holy fuck. Online, he hangs out with... _Trinity_."

She nodded again, watching him.

He passed the back of his hand over his mouth. "Oh my God."

She sighed, and waited.

"_You._ You're Trinity. _The_ Trinity - that cracked the IRS. You... you have to be. You are, aren't you?"

"That's me."

"Which means - it's_ him_. It is, isn't it? He told me. That he knew her. That she was a chick. And just the way he talked about her... it was obvious that he was into her. That he was totally fucking _crazy_ about her."

She said nothing.

"You were there, weren't you? On Saturday. Went over to say goodbye - said he had her there - that was y_ou_?"

"Yes."

"But... I _talked_ to him about you! Jesus, I told him everything! He saw us getting together, and then dating, and I told him I was in _love_ with you and he said nothing - _nothing_. What the hell? What the hell is going on?"

"He had his reasons."

"Oh, I just _bet_ he did. What, that his thing? You screwing other guys? D'you tell him all about it afterwards - that what gets him off? Jesus." He was shaking now. "This is just fucking twisted. So, so, so _sick_."

Met by silence, eventually he looked over and his stomach promptly lurched. Her eyes were glittering, and she was standing in a way that genuinely scared him. He remembered with a jolt that the authorities had strongly advised against ever approaching the mysterious Trinity. Trinity, it was said, was potentially extremely dangerous.

"You," she said, and something in her voice sent chills down his spine, "are not to speak about him like that. _Ever_."

"But this is - _Christ_. How can you be in love with a guy who doesn't even give a flying fuck if you sleep with his friend?" His voice was pleading now. "Please, just think about it. How can he love you? He can't. You deserve a million times better than that - you deserve someone who'll love you back, who'll always value you, put you first. Mackenzie... _I_ love you, and you want me to feel sorry for _him_? Jesus, how can you not see it?"

"We screwed for a bit, you and I," she said coldly. "You can try to romanticize it, but that's the truth. It's all it ever was. And Neo... my God, you have no idea. What we have together. And this - _you_ - could have been a hand grenade into that. He's had to watch me with someone else - I didn't even know who the hell he was - and even then, even after that, he's shown me nothing but love. He's done nothing -_ nothing_ - but think of me, so don't you fucking _dare_ to criticize him."

"So why didn't he say something! He was my friend, I wouldn't do that, if I'd just known..."

"He was told that forcing my memories could damage me - to leave me alone until I remembered for myself. No matter what. He couldn't even risk you knowing, in case your reaction tipped me off. It was for me, all of it. Even that, he'd do for me."

"He let you date me, so you didn't remember _him_? But that's insane!"

"He'd do anything for me." She sighed then, a little sadly. "He'd do more than he should for anyone. He's the most unselfish man alive."

"Jesus Christ."

"So some say."

"What?"

She shrugged. He'd soon find out. "Nevermind."

"This what you came to tell me? You have the perfect relationship with the perfect guy, and you're sorry you messed up, slumming with me, but hey, shit happens?" He turned away and sank down on the couch, his head in his hands. "Well, I guess you can go now. Your work here is done."

"No," she said, unable to quell the irritation. "No, it's not what I came for. That's what you had to know, before I told you what I came for."

He slumped back and closed his eyes. "I can hardly wait. So. What's the next joyous revelation?"

"The Matrix," she said. "Do you still want to know what it is?"


	19. Mad

Ghost knew she was annoyed the second she left the building and approached the car, but he couldn't tell if it was due to meeting with Zach, or just the needing a bodyguard.

She was still too physically vulnerable to risk fighting, but now she was living with Neo, and back in contact with Zion, the Oracle had warned she was all too identifiable. The Merovingian was not about to forgive a humiliation on the scale Trinity had administered, least of all before hundreds of people; he was, it seemed, icily determined to have her killed. The bounty on her head was very high, and it had been stressed as imperative that she be guarded at all times. She had accepted the necessity briskly, if unenthusiastically, but the reality had hit her hard the first time the guardian had been anyone other than Neo. Being coddled as a weak link annoyed her more, Ghost thought, than anything in her military life ever had.

"How'd it go?" he said carefully, as they pulled away.

"As expected."

That crispness meant distress, he knew. His heart sank. "He's coming?" he said, hoping against hope that the answer would be no - that the whole mess could be abandoned, and never referred to again. Niobe had been muttering darkly about pandering to their martyr complexes for days; if it'd been her call, Ghost knew, Zach's liberation would have been off the table.

But Trinity nodded. "Redpill. Matrix. However mad, he'll still come."

"He was mad?"

She exhaled through her nose. "You could call it that," she said.

"What would you call it?"

Her mouth suddenly tightened. "Let's just say he tried to argue Neo'd got off on it."

"I don't understand."

"Me with someone else. He tried to make out Neo'd liked it. That that was his thing."

Ghost blinked. "Christ. He's still alive?"

"Only just."

He sighed and shook his head. "God. I'm so sorry, Trin."

"Don't be." She glanced out of the window as the rain drizzled down, her face remote. "Makes it easier."

"Does it?"

She nodded. "He's just so different."

"To you, you mean?"

They'd reached the rendezvous now, and Ghost turned to face her as the engine died. But she was looking away from him, out of the window towards the factory, her eyes on the tall figure approaching them with swift, steady strides. Her face softened as their eyes met, and she opened the door, suddenly relaxed, all anger and tension gone. She glanced back at Ghost as she got out.

"To Neo," she said.

* * *

Zach froze. He should have expected it, he guessed, but somehow he hadn't. The Matrix had always been his and Mackenzie's secretly shared pursuit, after all. They stood looking at one another, the air thick with all that was unspoken between them, and for a long moment neither knew what to do or say. Then Neo frowned slightly, more worried than hostile. "Hey. You're a little early."

"That a problem?"

"No, it's fine." He held the door wide. "We're ready for you."

Zach looked him up and down, and then raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Isn't it a little... dark?"

"Dark?"

"For shades. Not much sun, this time of night."

Neo smiled slightly. "We all wear them. I'll explain later. Right now - well, you better come in. There's someone you need to meet." He turned away, and began to move towards the stairs.

Zach was suddenly uncomfortably aware that he was meeting a man in an abandoned factory, telling nobody of his plans, after spending a month sleeping with that man's girlfriend. And all he _really_ knew about these people was that they were on the Most Wanted lists of every major law enforcement agency in the world. First rule in the How To Remain Alive Manual: don't put your life in the hands of a guy with a criminal record and serious reason to want you dead. Especially not in the outskirts of town, in a derelict building, with no apparent means of escape. He swallowed. "Morpheus?" he asked. "I'm going to meet with Morpheus?"

"Yeah," Neo said over his shoulder, then began climbing the stairs. "It's this way."

Zach followed, the long black coat flaring out above him in Neo's wake as they ascended. Zach felt clumsier than he ever had before in his life - Tom was even more of a presence in this place, in these clothes, than he had been at work, and his smooth, precise movements made Zach stumble a little, doubt his own ability to balance on two feet. He was miserably reminded that this guy could never have regarded Mackenzie as being out of his league, even if he _was_ a fugitive criminal with serious trust issues. Tom could always have had pretty well any woman he wanted; it was just Zach's crappy luck that the woman Tom wanted was her. "Is she here?" he said abruptly.

There was nothing in Neo's swift, even movements to indicate that he'd even heard the question, let alone been thrown by it. His voice was perfectly calm as he responded in the affirmative, his stride unbroken and steady. It unsettled Zach, this man's easy dominion over a subject that still tore him, Zach, up so utterly. Tom, he realized, wasn't bothered at all. The suspicion that he didn't, in truth, give a damn about Mackenzie resurfaced, and the spark of anger gave Zach the courage to continue.

* * *

"What d'you mean, irrevocable?" Zach was getting annoyed - the guy was speaking in riddles, in a way that sounded like nothing so much as Philosophy 101. It wasn't Zach's favorite class even back in the day, and he was unlikely to get any credit for it here.

"There can be no unknowing. Once you know the truth, you can never see the world in the same way. You join us, and you will find what you seek. It will not be easy. But it will be the truth. But if you prefer to remain in comfortable ignorance, oblivious of true freedom - the freedom of the mind - then you need only take the blue pill, and you will. It would be better for you if you did. If that is your preference."

"But if I do that, then I'll always wonder. What it is that's hidden."

Morpheus shrugged, but didn't speak. He seemed disinterested - in the process. In the explanations. And above all, in Zach.

"You _want_ me to take blue, don't you?" Zach said suddenly. "Why?"

"This is not about personalities, or others' preferences. It is a decision purely for yourself. I am merely here to show you the door and proffer the key to that door. You are the only person who can decide whether to walk over the threshold."

"How well do you know them?"

"Know who?"

"Mackenzie and Tom. Or _Trinity _and_ Neo_. I know you're all in this thing. But that's all I know. So. How well?"

Morpheus looked at him without affection. Then he said, "Well enough."

"Well enough to want me the hell away from her."

It was a statement, not a question.

Morpheus looked at him again, this time for longer. Then he said, "No."

Zach snorted. "No?"

"No. You give yourself too much credit."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Morpheus smiled. "I have no desire to keep you and Trinity apart. She can protect what matters most to her without requiring any assistance from me. You are here because she has identified you as an individual seeking the truth, who is capable of embracing that truth."

Zach leaned forward in his chair. "What truth?" he said.

Morpheus looked at Zach then; looked at him properly for the first time. There was a pause, before he said, "The reason. For the splinter in your mind, working away at you, troubling you. The insistent sense that there is something wrong with the world. As indeed there is. The Matrix."

"What_ is_ it?"

"Nobody can be told the answer to that question. You must see it for yourself. But I must warn you again: it will not be easy, and it will not be reversible. You cannot retreat back into oblivion, if you dislike what you find. The choice you make here will be the choice you must live with. The truth is often harder than lies. It is why we choose to believe in them."

"But if you don't tell me what that choice is, how can I make it?"

"Every one of us had to make it, just as you are now. There is no other way."

"Can I speak to her?" Zach said abruptly.

Morpheus shook his head. "I would counsel against it. This is not a decision to make on a transient emotional basis, or under influence from another. It must come from deep within."

"But I trust her. I don't even know you."

"The question is whether you know yourself - whether you trust _yourself_. And it is not a question anyone else can answer."

Zach looked at him for a moment. Then he looked at the pills, lying between them, a glass of water standing sentinel.

"Take all the time you need," Morpheus said, his face impassive.

"I don't."

"You don't what?"

"Need time," said Zach, and reached for the red pill.

* * *

The whole thing was frightening, surreal, and above all, utterly confusing.

He could hardly see, he could hardly move, and the blurry impression he did have, now the terrifying metal spider had departed, had dumped him on some kind of metal ramp for the humans to deal with, was that he'd somehow wound up inside a giant steel trashcan. And then it hit him - she'd done exactly as he had, bare minutes after him. She'd accepted a pill from these people, too. He'd seen her, Tom walking by her side into another room after Morpheus, as that black woman and this Asian guy dealt with Zach. But she wasn't here - there was no sign of her at all. He had no faith that these people and those... _things_ meant well by them, and he was suddenly terrified for her.

"_Kenz_?" He coughed then, his throat agonizingly raw; it made him retch which brought up more of the bitter fluid. Then an arm was braced round him and the Asian guy - now wearing shitty, dirty, ragged clothing - spoke.

"You're safe. We'll look after you, Zach."

"Where _is_ she?"

There was a silence, and the people around him seemed to be exchanging glances. Zach was suddenly certain, in a way he hadn't been before, that every one of these people knew everything. Knew everything... and were very determinedly on Tom's side. It made him mad. If anyone had come off worst in the whole fucking mess it was him, not Tom.

"_Where's Mackenzie_?" he demanded again, his voice so raspily hoarse it tore his throat, before exiting as a strained, barely audible whisper. He found himself wondering what fresh hell this was - what brand of insanity came with a side order of laryngitis, for God's sake?

The man beside him sighed a little, then spoke. "Her name is Trinity. Not Mackenzie." He hesitated, then added, "Trinity is the name she chose for herself. She will not thank you for using the other."

"She's okay?" Zach whispered insistently, annoyed by yet another goddamn lecture. As if they all knew her better. As if he, Zach, had had no relationship to her at all.

"She is."

"You swear?" He began to retch again, speech far more effort than he had strength for, and the man wiped his mouth with a new gentleness. " I heard," Zach gasped, as soon as he could manage. "In that room, waiting for me to - _whatever it was_. You were scared for her."

"Yes," the man agreed. "We were. We were afraid she might... struggle. But she's doing well." He smiled suddenly. "Trin's tough. She's never been beaten by anything; this'll be no exception."

Zach's voice was gone completely now, and he had to struggle to form words at all, even in his own mind. "Who are you?" he whispered.

"My name is Ghost."

Zach closed his eyes, suddenly giddy. "Her _husband_?"

"Hardly. No. I'm more like her brother."

This was too much. Zach clutched feebly at the air and struggled to breathe, a roaring in his ears, as the world dissolved into a pointillated blur of black and white stars.

* * *

The memories after that were a disconnected, hallucinatory patchwork. He was pushed, prodded, probed and electrocuted with tiny charges all over his body. His muscles didn't obey him - messages from his brain somehow getting lost en route - and he found himself wondering confusedly if he'd been abducted by aliens, who'd somehow assumed human shape. Those whackjobs on cable had described not dissimilar experiences, after all, though none had involved _pills_... and then he started to consider the chances of this being a really, really bad trip. But he couldn't buy that, either. Not when Mackenzie had been so relaxed about swallowing her own, moments after he had. She wasn't someone he could ever imagine tripping, even back in college. Kenz was way the hell too controlled, too guarded for that. No, whatever this was, it was... real.

The day came when he asked where she was. The skinny medic by his side looked across at Morpheus, and then looked back at Zach and said with forced cheerfulness, "She's doing fine. She was sicker than you, I gotta admit, but we spoke to Neo just an hour ago and she's gonna be just fine."

"You _spoke_ to... she's not here?"

The man smiled patiently. "She's... kinda next door. She needed more specialist care than we can offer. But she'll be transferred over here tonight, you'll see her for yourself." He paused then, before adding, a little awkward, "Her, and Neo."

* * *

Zion was hell. Literally, he believed at first.

The rushed, hazy impressions were of dirt and chaos and walls of people at every turn, all whispering and looking,_ staring_, from the moment he was wheeled off of that ship. They were staring at Tom and Mackenzie. Mackenzie had refused a chair, quietly but unarguably, and was instead walking ahead of everyone else, next to Tom. Morpheus had been greeted by some kind of welcoming committee on board the ship, which Zach hadn't been privy to - these people, clearly important, had smiled at him politely but without interest, when the time came to leave. They walked now alongside Morpheus and Niobe, Zach in a wheelchair behind them, pushed by Link.

As the little group approached the wall of people stood aside, creating a pathway through, and closed again after them, when Zach passed, like the Red Sea. The closure was so rapid he could feel the breeze from their movement on his skin. Heads bowed all around them, and there was a buzzing of words he couldn't catch, from thousands of throats.

They were... _famous_.

But it was more than that. This was more than mere celebrity. They were being stared at with worshipful, hungry eyes. He'd once seen the President inaugurate a building at his school, and this was nothing like that had been. There wasn't just fame or power or glamour - this was something more. It was as if every single person there had been saved from death by them, personally.

It was insane.

The hospital was quieter, but no more familiar. Endless treatments, endless needles and tiny electric shocks and his eyes slowly adjusting. Neo was there sometimes, silent, but somehow oddly protective, and once he woke to find Trinity beside him in a chair, her eyes grave. He'd cried then, seeing her, and she'd slipped her hand into his and spoken quiet words of reassurance, before a nurse had come in and insisted that she be taken away to rest herself. Her face was much rounder - she was no longer the startlingly thin woman he'd known - and her hair was gone, just a prickling of regrowth in its place.

The day came when he was able to touch his own head, and find it equally bald.

"Why?" he said to Neo, who'd been there at the time, standing silently at the foot of the bed. "We've lost our hair - you. Me. Kenz. _Why_?"

"It'll grow back."

"But there has to be a reason - what is it?"

"When you're stronger, I'll explain. I'll do it personally. Try not to worry, Zach. I promise there's nothing to worry about."

"Am I... " He looked around, terrified. "Have I gone mad?"

Neo looked at him, his brown eyes very honest. "No, Zach," he said. "You've not gone mad. You're saner than ever before."

* * *

_Sorry the update has been so long. I'm struggling with severe writer's block, which is infuriating when I know what I want to happen and how. The words just aren't flowing. I'll update as soon as I write anything I'm remotely happy with - sorry to be a flake. :/_


	20. Truth

Zach's eyes were wide.

"This place is amazing. What is it?"

"Neo's apartment."

He looked around again more carefully, and then grimaced. "He's rich, too? Shoulda guessed. He's got everything else."

"He didn't use to be." Ghost hesitated, unsure of how much he should say. But the resentment was so palpable, and so unfounded, and it was all common knowledge, anyway. "The opposite, in fact. This," he gestured around the beautiful, tranquil living area, "is a thank you from Zion. They moved in just this last week. They didn't have enough privacy in their old place anymore..." He paused, seeing the blank expression on Zach's face. How could he even begin to understand? The crowds, thronging the walkways around Trinity's apartment, hushed, worshipful, completely oppressive? Understand what it had been like, in that tiny sliver of a room, ever since they'd been back? Visitors had instinctively whispered, constantly aware of the people just outside that thin steel partition. Trinity and Neo had whispered too, had made carefully veiled allusions to anything personal, even in their own home, plainly afraid their conversations were overheard. Ghost had hated the bare hour he'd spent there, so he'd not been surprised by their decision, just that they'd held out as long as they had. He'd been saddest when he'd heard of their only request: that the old apartment be kept aside for a year or two, in case the publicity died down again, and made its reoccupation a possibility. This denial of the truth was uncharacteristic, but their longing for anonymity was anything but.

The new apartment was set squarely on the main concourse, with a secret exit through the upstairs wall into the military complex next door, and a cleared zone into the main Zion square. Nobody was allowed to mass there; civilian police ensured a free flow so the Temple, hospital, council buildings and military complex could be easily accessed. This was the only private home allowed here, in the civic area, by all the public buildings, adjacent to the main Temple entrance. And inside, the layout had been designed with privacy in mind at Ghost and Morpheus' express insistence in the planning stages; the double-height living area shielded the bedrooms, the processing room and the dining kitchen from ears and eyes, even from their less intimate guests. They had spaces that would always be private, hidden away from any but the very closest of friends.

Ghost sighed. "Come. We'll explain everything." _Enough, anyway _he amended silently to himself_. _Information on Neo and Trinity was now strictly on a need-to-know basis. Gossip germinating wildly from the tiniest snippet became a jungle inside a day, in Zion. He'd lost count of how many times he'd been told that Trinity was pregnant, that Neo was having an affair, that the machines were paying insiders to assassinate one, the other or both.

He led the way through the room, and over to the carved stone stairs at the back, the kitchen door half-hidden beneath it.

As they ascended, Zach realized they were reaching a mezzanine balcony, overlooking the living area. Off it were five doors, all closed; the left-most one at a right angle, and the other four in a row, facing down to the living room. Ghost knocked at the last one on the right.

Morpheus opened it.

"Come in."

Link was inside as well, typing rapidly into a central bank of monitor screens, and while he raised a hand in awkward greeting as Zach entered, he didn't stop his work.

Ghost felt momentarily envious. He'd not mind an excuse to be preoccupied to the point of invisibility, if he had to be here at all. He'd been assigned many unpleasant tasks in his service of Zion, but this was indubitably one of the worst. And nobody knew. Nobody knew that assigning him this job was tactless to the point of cruelty. Observing Zach's desolation might remind him powerfully of his own.

He'd long buried the memory; he'd had to, if he was to remain close to Trinity, was to build the relationship with Neo that any continued closeness to her required. His honest liking for the man had eventually made that easier, and by now, it wasn't faked. He regarded Neo as a friend in his own right. But he didn't want to remember how he'd felt that evening, Trinity's face glowing, her words falling over one another in uncharacteristic eagerness, telling him this newly freed man could do amazing things. Was the kindest, gentlest, most courageous person she'd ever met; that he, Ghost, just had to meet him too, had to _know_. He'd known more than she realized; even before she told him, he'd known. It shone out of her, said a great deal more than her words could begin to. And that had been shocking, too, in a woman as guarded and cautious as she was. The pain had been breathtaking when he'd first seen them together, grasped quite how reciprocal it was. And now he was to inflict it on someone else.

Zach didn't believe Neo felt the same way she did, and Ghost knew the dim flame of hope which burned on that fuel. It was about to be extinguished.

"We felt this apartment would afford more privacy than the communal options available to us," Morpheus said, his face impassive. "Link will operate for us. Please, take a seat." But Zach didn't move.

"Operate?"

"A technical term. It'll all become clear when we explain."

"This better not be surgery," he said lightly, but there was genuine anxiety just beneath. Morpheus' face softened.

"Nothing of the kind, have no fear. He operates the programs we require if we are to throw light upon your new situation. Explanations are easier with that supplementation."

"Explanations? When Neo isn't here? He said he'd do it."

"We dissuaded him. There are things he would find it difficult to tell you."

"Difficult?"

"Indeed."

"Why?"

Morpheus smiled. "Because Neo is - he remains - a most unassuming man."

"I don't follow."

"He would find it difficult to explain that he is also a wholly remarkable one."

Zach's jaw set to muscle. Then he said abruptly, "So why isn't she doing it?"

"You don't want to hear this from her, Zach," Ghost said gently. "Trust me. You don't."

"People keep saying that," Zach said, a slight note of desperation evident. "Trust them. Don't ask questions. Don't I deserve a bit of trust back, by now?"

"Yes," Ghost said. "But Morpheus and I have to be the ones to tell you what's going on." He reached across and put a hand on Zach's shoulder. "Believe me, this is being done for your sake. It's been very carefully considered. Neo wouldn't ever renege on a promise like that if he weren't convinced it was right - for you."

Zach stared at the four drive chairs, set around a bank of monitors, as Link began to type a string of commands, and then at the streaming green code. "What's that? It's no programming language I've ever seen."

"Here, it's just for a program we call the construct."

"Here?"

Link glanced over. "It codes the Matrix, too," he said. Zach looked at him, then back at the others, and then finally sighed and motioned to the drive chairs. "So what are those for?"

"This is their... you could call it their study," Ghost said carefully. "Neo and Trinity's. Those chairs are where they work."

Zach stared around him again, at the chairs, the bizarre paraphernalia beside each one. "They have some kind of dentist fetish and nobody told me? 'Cause I have to warn you, it's not one I share."

Link raised an eyebrow. "See, you say that now... but trust me, it grows on you guys. I've seen it a million times."

"A million?" Ghost said, and smiled. Link's determination to lighten the tone impressed him; the least he could do was try to help. Before they blew the poor bastard's world apart.

"Jack-ins?" Link said cheerfully. "By now, probably. And Zach, Trinity's the only poddie I know who ain't a construct fan. Could call her weird over it in fact only I don't wanna die so I'll just call her rare. So. Month from now, you'll be doing this as a vacation. C'mon! Siddown, relax. I'm a pro. You won't feel a thing." He'd moved over to Zach's side by now, begun typing into the small screen next to the chair, which promptly lowered in response, then he too patted Zach's shoulder encouragingly. "Here. Take the weight off."

Zach sat down, suspicious, before gingerly leaning his head back, imitating Ghost and Morpheus in their own chairs. "That's what the dentist always said," he muttered.

"The what now?"

"_Relax. You won't feel a thing_..." and then he jerked rigid, as an indescribable electric jolt connected with his brain.

* * *

"You okay?"

She looked up. "Hey. You're home early."

He slid onto the bench, next to her at the big kitchen table. "You didn't answer my question."

She smiled briefly, the distant, unfathomable smile he'd seen her give others so often. "I'm fine," she said. He hesitated, looking at the impassive expression, then decided to let it go. She'd talk when she was ready, it wasn't fair to force that moment. She stood up and walked over to the countertop, her back to him, then returned with two glasses in one hand and a bottle in the other. "Here." She set a drink before him, before pouring her own. "Figured we could probably do with it."

"Thanks," he said, surprised, staring at the glasses. They were beautiful, hand-blown in cobalt blue; he was certain he'd never seen them before. Her eyes followed his.

"I found another closet earlier," she observed. "Under the stairs."

"Another?"

"Uh huh."

"What was in it this time?"

She indicated her glass. "These. And enough liquor to kill us." She eyed him as he took a first swallow. "I thought you were meant to be with the Council all day?"

"I was." Then, "_Christ_." He blinked, his face contorted. "What _is_ this?"

"The bottle says vodka, but my money's on ethanol. Let's hope we live through the night. So what happened?"

"Happened?" he was still blinking.

"With the Council."

"Oh." He took another swallow, and grimaced as it burned its way down his throat. "Told them I had something more important to do."

She touched his hand. "Thank you."

"It'll be okay," Neo said quietly, watching her. Her restlessness was worrying him. "He'll be okay."

"We don't know that."

"You get a sense for it. Who can deal and who can't. You know that. He always fit in the first category, right from the start."

"Nothing in this situation fits any category," she objected. "It's all new ground."

"We'll make sure he's okay then. Whatever he needs."

"I feel responsible. For how much worse this is gonna be. And just the basics was pretty bad, for all of us."

"But it's not your fault," he said at once. "None of it, Trin."

"But my doing. And the distinction feels academic."

He looked down at his glass, at a loss. He swirled, and watched as the vertical rivulets formed, fluid evidence of just how strong the liquor was. There were bubbles in the glass, trapped. He wondered whether that was part of the design, deliberate imperfection. Then he looked back at Trinity. She let out a slow breath.

"I hate this."

"I know. But it's just the last bit now," he said softly. "It's almost over."

"You think so?"

"You don't?"

She remained silent for a while, still frowning. He waited. Then she said, "I guess it depends. If he talks. If he trusts the wrong person..."

"You can't think that way. Chances are it won't happen. He has good instincts."

"If this gets out, someone's gonna try to kill him."

Neo shook his head. If he knew nothing else, he knew he could control a security arrangement in Zion. He requested something simple these days, something uncontroversial and easy to arrange, and people fell over themselves to secure it for him. "Then I'll ensure he's safe."

"Guarded forever?" Trinity said. "For the rest of his life?"

"If necessary. Yes."

"And me? Because it could come to that."

He flinched. "Don't. Please."

"This'd be the biggest scandal in Zion history." She looked at him, eyes clear. "You know that as well as I do."

"Nobody would believe him. They'd think he was crazy."

"And we could leave it there?"

Neo averted his face, unable to reply. She sighed.

"Yeah. Exactly."

He couldn't think about it. She'd always been his Achilles heel, she always would be. They'd been through so much already; alive and reunited by the narrowest of margins. He couldn't contemplate yet another threat. He didn't want to think about Zach anymore, or even the time stuck back in the Matrix, let alone the devastatingly complete estrangement from Trinity. He didn't want to acknowledge a fear that the whole mess was some terrible zombie, could rise up when least anticipated, might stubbornly refuse to die. He swallowed hard and cleared his mind.

"We can't spend the rest of our lives jumping at shadows, Trin. He'll keep his mouth shut. Morpheus and Ghost will make sure he knows what's at stake."

"They'll try," she said, and then leaned into him, as he took her hand in his and put his lips to her newborn hair.

* * *

"Is it true?"

The intimacy - they were sitting at the table, close together, their fingers intertwined - didn't escape him. The simple domesticity of it underlined all he'd lost; all he'd never really had at all. Neo's eyes met Trinity's, a conversation in that swift glance before he got up. "I'm due at a meeting," he said. "I'll be about an hour, Trin. Message me if you want anything."

"Okay."

"Is it true?" Zach repeated.

She waited until Neo shut the door quietly behind him. "You better sit down," she said then, her voice cool.

"No thanks. Look, they told me... a ton. Is it true?"

"Which part? The Matrix?"

"No. I know that's true. I'm not a complete moron, I'd quite the collection of dystopian fiction, and this place isn't exactly fucking Kansas. Or Oz, come to that. I'm not fucked up enough to invent a whole civilization. A whole culture. This place is real."

She was silent as she assimilated this. She wasn't prepared for it. A steel ship and a stony truth, surrounded by a pack of total strangers... it wasn't the easiest alternate reality to accept, not for anyone. She realized for the first time that the traditional, time-honored method might be badly flawed. It might create fierce loyalties, it might elicit a strong desire to serve on the ships helping to free others, but the human cost of that trauma-induced bonding process was very high. Zach had been shown a pleasanter reality, here in Zion. He'd been shown a life palpably worth living, people just going about their human destinies, fulfilling perfectly normal hopes and dreams. And either he was very anomalous, or it was significantly softening the blow.

"So what's the query?" she said slowly. "If you know where you are? Is what true?"

"That he's some kind of fucking... messiah. That he saved the human race, pretty much single-handed. That everyone here thinks the sun shines out of his ass. Which is about the only place it does shine, what with the nuclear Armageddon and all." He rubbed his eyes and blinked. "Oh. Yeah. And that you..." he cleared his throat, awkward, "resurrected him. And he's since returned the favor. That you guys were predicted by some oracle figure. All that. Is it true?"

Trinity nodded. "Yes," she said.

She was never comfortable with questions on this subject. She and Neo had suffered through too many formal enquiries into precisely how their tie impacted his abilities, and thus the war effort. It wasn't as if either were comfortable talking about private things at the best of times. She found herself falling back on the comfortingly technical. "Though in both cases it wasn't real death. It was just encoded. The variable was Neo's capacity to understand that, even when jacked in. So the reality of those events is somewhat questionable - it's just a giant sim, after all."

"But the love part's real."

"Yes."

"The prediction?"

"Yes."

Zach shook his head in disbelief. "That's fucked up," he said. "You get with some guy purely because he's a superhero? Sorry, but that's kind of creepy."

"_Excuse_ me?" Her eyes narrowed and her head rose sharply to look at him. "What are you talking about?"

"You're with the guy because he's like, some sort of savior? Does he even know that? 'Cause if I were him, and I did, I'd be pretty offended. I mean, I'm not saying you're a starfucker or anything, but... yeah."

"I knew he was the One because of how I felt about him," she said calmly. "Not the other way round. It started on the ship, before he was much of anything except shocked out of his mind. I didn't give a crap about anything but him. That was how I knew it _was_ him."

Zach raised an eyebrow. "Pretty subtle distinction."

"You think so?" she said, her face an impassive mask. "How unfortunate for you. I'd call it glaring."

He looked at her, and then a smile began to tug at his mouth. "You don't change, do you?"

"Did you expect me to?"

He shrugged. "Neo's pretty different. In this place. So yeah, I did wonder."

"I was pretty different in there when I wasn't half dying. You had to be if you wanted to live. We were soldiers. You can't let your guard down in that situation, you have a job to do."

He was quiet again, and then he said, "How long?"

"How long what?"

"How long did you have to wait? Till he was freed, I mean."

"Oh." She was silent for a while, then just when he was giving up hope of a response, she said, "Eleven years."

"_Eleven_?" He stared at her, jaw ajar. "And you just... wondered? All that time?"

"Not all the time. It was there, but I didn't exactly obsess about it. There was a lot else to occupy me."

He was thoughtful, pondering this, and then eventually he nodded. "Yeah, you had quite the career, right?"

"I was pretty busy," she acknowledged.

"And I guess there are worse things to be promised. Like, some great romance lies in your future, the full tall, dark and handsome gig. Lot of chicks go wild for that - plenty of psychics pay the rent on it." But Trinity began shaking her head before he'd finished speaking.

"It wasn't like that. I wasn't told we'd be together, that he'd even like me. That he'd be a decent person, either. Nobody ever said it would be reciprocal. Just that I'd fall in love, and that man would be the One. That was all."

"Yeah, but you knew he had to _be_ someone. I mean, given."

She paused for a moment, and then said, "You know there was another One?"

"The guy who made the Prophecy in the first place? He came up, yeah."

"Did they tell you he had three wives?"

"He have a thing for divorce?" Zach was suddenly curious. "Not the family type?"

"Oh, he was the family type alright. He had a thing for polygamy."

Zach's jaw dropped. "No_ way_."

"Claimed it was the best means to populate Zion. There were more women than men freed in the early days, on that basis. Makes sense, I guess, I mean he may have been right." Trinity took a swallow of her drink. "I used to wonder how much of it would be like the past, if the prediction was right. You know - would it be a redux, would he be kind of the same guy, reincarnated? If it was even true."

"If?"

She shrugged. "There was always a wide variance on who believed and who didn't. Lot of people thought it was all just bullshit."

"Do any now?"

She raised an eyebrow. "How would I know?"

"Oh. Yeah."

She looked away.

"Did _you_ believe?" he asked, watching her. "Back then, I mean? Before him?"

"I didn't know what I thought."

"At..." he did some rapid calculation, "eighteen?"

"Yeah."

"Shit, Kenz. They really need to lay that one on so ahead of time?"

"I've thought that. She could have waited a few years."

"Maybe she didn't want you making any mistakes."

"I made plenty of those."

"I meant with guys. Marrying someone else..." he tailed away, afraid this was too close to the bone. But she seemed unaffected, just shook her head.

"I was never one for commitments before. Just out of the question."

"You don't think being told a thing like that could be why?"

"Perhaps." She shrugged. "I don't regret it, so why analyze it?"

"But a decade's a long time."

"So I told myself it probably wasn't true and got on with my life."

"Really?"

"Yes. I hoped it was all bullshit until Neo."

Zach's mouth twisted. "Well, that's nice. All worked out perfectly. Lucky you."

Trinity looked at him. "Waiting for him to die was perfect?"

"Oh, c'mon," he protested, "that's kind of melodramatic."

"Martyrs tend to. It's the job description."

"But the way I was told it that was the same all through the war. On the ships, at least. Life expectancy in your line of work wasn't great."

"No, this was different. Far worse. Neo - he never had any instinct for self-preservation. He always cared too much about other people. And I never had so much to lose before either." Her voice became so quiet, he had to strain to catch her words. "You can't know what it's like to meet someone, and just keep finding more. That they're even more special than you thought. That there's even more to love, and so much more to lose. And that they want to be with you as much as you do them. I was so damn grateful. To him, for him. But it made it more frightening, all the time. Every day. For him, too. By the end, he was hardly sleeping at all - was in way worse shape than I was."

His throat began to close up. "So what did you do?" he managed.

She shrugged, her eyes still faraway, focused on past memory. "Got on with it. He needed me to hold it together. That was how I could help him. Stay strong, keep everything calm."

"How could you with that hanging over you?"

"We were happy, when we could be. That made everything manageable." Her eyes darkened. "We didn't have that lately. It proved the point."

Zach looked at her. What they'd shown him, in that program... what she'd been through, in that war. And yet his mere existence had added to their burdens. As if they'd not had to shoulder the unbearable already. In Neo's position, he knew he'd have left the whole episode buried in a past they only wanted to forget. Left Zach behind, so they could pretend it had never happened at all. But they'd freed him, instead. Brought him with them, a living, breathing reminder of the worst hit their relationship had ever had to take. Neo had done what he believed was right, whatever the risks or costs. Her words in that last visit to his apartment, so resented at the time, echoed in his mind. _He'd do more than he should for anyone. He's the most unselfish man alive._

"Look, I should go." He stood up. "This can't be fun for you guys. I'll be okay now."

"You don't have to. You're welcome here, anytime. _We're_ always here. If you need anything. Answers, help. Anything at all."

"Yeah. Thanks."

"I mean it, Zach."

He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said. "You've never been a liar." He smiled a little. "Nor's he."

"No," she said simply.

"Nobody could have blamed him if he'd left me behind. Dropped all that time. But he didn't, did he?"

"He'd never leave someone in that place because of a personal complication. You've as much right to freedom as we have."

"_Personal complication_. That's a neat description." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You know Morpheus set me straight? I didn't matter, was the gist. You and Neo could take a lot worse than me and stay in good shape."

She sighed, tired, and eyed her empty glass. "He shouldn't have said that. It wasn't fair."

"And the truth shall set you free, right? Nobody said I had to like it."

She was silent for a moment, and then she cleared her throat, and he knew the subject was closed. She'd already been more open than he'd ever known her; it was unlikely to be repeated. This was his measure, his lot. "By the way, Neo's pulled in a favor," she said.

"Favor?"

"At Settlement and Housing. Your friends - the ones who were freed before you. I can give you their addresses, if you want them. Here in Zion. Neo thought..." she shrugged, slightly awkward, hoping he'd not regard this as a brush-off: "_we_ thought it might help you feel more at home."

* * *

_Again, I'm so sorry about the lengthy gap. This story isn't abandoned and won't be; the plot is all straight in my head. But getting the characters to speak and sound natural isn't happening at the moment. I'm posting this because it gets me to a point the plot needs to and I just can't get it the way I want it; hopefully at a later date it can benefit from editing. The words aren't flowing well, I'm sorry and will update more regularly when they do. _

_Thank you so much for the reviews; I read them and I love them. I don't go on about them because I don't want to sound entitled (I appreciate people reading, whether they review or not) but I'm touched when people go to the trouble._

_Finally, I found an article on the trilogy which I thought I'd share. You can't give links on this site, but if you google "John Kenneth Muir Reflections Matrix Revolutions" it should show up. It's a review of Revolutions, but it addresses the themes of all three. I think it's a seriously good examination of the philosophical/spiritual underpinnings of the trilogy (as are his earlier reviews of M1 and Reloaded) and very thought-provoking._


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